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AMERICAN LITERATURE,

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WITH

REMARKS ON SOME PASSAGES

AMERICAN HISTORY.

:;c=*

BY SAMUEL lI.KNAPP.

" Nor rough, nor baneB, are the winding ways
Of hpar antiquity, but strawn with flowers." .

" Peace to the juat man'a memory, — let it grow
Greener with yean, and Uoaeom thirough the fli^
Of agee ; let the mimiclc canvass show
Bis calm benevolent features ; let the light
BUeam <m his deeds of love, thatdiunn'd tha sight
Of all hut heaven, and hi the book of fame
The glorious record of his virtues write.
And hold it up to men, and bid them claim
A palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame."

Bryant.

" The freshness of that post shall still

Sacred to memory's holiest musings be."

Sand^

• - -

BTERKOTTPED BT JAMES CONMBB. . • • ' .

.; : . '

PUBLISHED BY ELAM BLISS,
No. 107 Broadway.

1829.

THENEWYOR^

PUBLIC UBRARYi

A8T0H, LENOX AND
TILOEM FOUNBATlON?

1899.

SnUfiem DiaMct qf New- York, n.

Ba IT SBMBMBXSXD, That cm the 8th day of October, A. D. 1829, in the
fifty-fourth year of toe Independence of the United States of America,
Samuel L. Knaff, of the said District, has deposited in this office the title
of a boo^ the right whereof he claims as autnor, in Uie words following,
to wit: —

"Lectures on American Literature, with remaiics on some passages of
American History. By Samuel L. Knapp.

" Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding wajs

Of hoar antiquitj, but strewn with flowers."

" Peace to the just man's memory, — let it grow
Greener with years, and bloosom through the flight
Of ages ; let the mimick canrasi show
Wb calm benevolent features ; let the light
Stream on his deeds oTloye^ that ahuon'd the sight
or all hut heaven, and in toe boolc of fiime
The glorious record of his virtues write,
And haid it up to men, and bid them claim
k palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame."

■**The freshness of that past shaH stiS

Bryant

Sacred to memOTy'a holiest musings be."

Smnda.

In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled. ''An
Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securiiig the cqpies oi Mstps,
Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors ot such copies, during
the time therein mentioned." And also to an Act, entitled, " An Act, sup*
plementary to an Act, entitled, an Act for the encouragement of Learning*,
oy securing the cqpi^s of Maps, Charts^ and Book^ to the authors and
proprietors of such copies, during the tunes therein mentioned, and ex^^
tending the benefits thereof to the arts c^ designing, engraving, and etchii^
Idstorical and other prints."

FRED. J. BETTS^
Clerk of the Southern District of New-Tork.

Ludinig 6c TolelrBe, PrintorB.

WILLIAM AUSTIN SEELY, ESQ.

GOUXSEIiliOR AT liAW.

Mt DBAft Sib,
To you, yihOf amid the cares of a full practice in a laborious and an all-
absorbing profession, surrounded by clients and erfgaged in courts^ ba^e
found time, by system and method, to collect the hterature and science of
every age, and to taste, nuMt Ubtsmll^, of tbeir sweets, I lespectlVdly dedicate
this humble volume, in "which I have attempted to describe^ by a few &int
sketches, and with some passing remarks, the hterature, the talents^ and the
diaracter of our ancestors. I have taken this liberty, because I was confident
that you would favour the effort, whatever might be its success with the pub-
lick, as yoQ understood the motives whidi called it forth ; and for another
reason, which is, that I know you are among the number who are anxious
that we, as a people, should speak freely and justly of ourselves^ and honestly
strive to place our claims to National distinction on the broad basis of wdl
authenticated historical &cts ; this would soon be accomplished, if all our able
and enfightened scholars would come forward to aid the few who are toiling in
the cause : yet, with a few exceptions, our pride has rather led us to make
spirited retorts^ than laborious researches, for an answer to those who question
our literary and sdentifick character : — ^The work I now present yon and the
puUick, is only offered as the opening argument of junior counad, in the great
cause instituted to establish the claims of the United States to that intelle^ual^
literary, and scienlifick eminence, which we say, she deserves to have^ and
ought to maintain ; and in thin^ I have attempted but fittie more than to state
my points^ name my authorities^ and then have left the whole field for those
abler advocates who may follow me. To be thought by you, and thpse like
you, capable of judging, that I have opened the cause fairly, and ntaide out a
respectable brief to hand to others^ will be sufficient praise ibrme; I will not,
in these few lines, devoted to personal respect and frioidship, enter fiur into
my plans, or fully express my hopes ; but leaving these for time to develop, or
for your private ear, I vrill only add my sincere prayers that your life may be
bhg, and continued as happy and prosperous as it has heretofore been, and
that your generous exertions, of every kind, may at all times meet with a just
measure of gratitude^ the richest recompense a high mind can receive.

Tour obliged friend and humble servant^

SAMUEL L. XNAPP.
November^ 1839.

PREFACE.

Every book that b ushered bito the world, Is a mental experiment of the writer, to ••-
certain the taste, and to obtain the judgement of the community; and the author can only
be certain of one thing, and that is, of his taitentious in his publication. Of my intentions, 1
can only say, as, perhaps, I have a dozen times said in the course of mv work, they were
to exhibit to the rising generation something of the history of the thoughts and intellectual
labours of our forefathers, as well as of their deeds. There is, however, an intimate con*
nexion between thinking and acting, particularly among a free and an energetick people.
My plan, when I commenced my researches was an extensive (me. and I gathered copious
materials to carry it into effect. For several years past, I have had access to libraries rich
in American literature ; but when I sat down to work up the mass I had collected, the thought
suggested itself to my mind, that no adequate compensation could ever be reasonably ex-
pected for mv {xdns; and then the consciousness that I was in some measure trespassing
upon my pnmssbnal pursuits, went far to quench my zeal, and to chase away my visions
or literary reputation. Still, I could not be persuaded to leUnquish altogether my desigi^
and I therefore set about abridging my outlines, dispensing with many of my remarks, and
giving up numerous elaborate finishings I had promised myself to make in the course of my
work. And another thought struck me most forcibly, that a heavy publication would not be
readily within the reach of aU classes of youth in our country, but that a single volume of
common size, in a cheap editioii. might find its way into some of our schools, and be of ser-
rice in giving our children a wiui to pursue the subjjectof our literair history, as they ad-
vanced in years and In Ignowledge. The instructors of our youth, when true to their
trnet, «»m a class in the community that I hold in req)ect and eeteran, and they wSl
mrdon me for making a few remarks to them. Your -calling is high, I had almost sakl holy.
To your intelligence, patience, good temper, purity of life, and soundness of principles, pa-
rents look for the forming of beatthy, vigorous mlndiB, tn their childtea. If you cannot create
talents, you can do scmiethiBg better ; you can guide the fiery, and wake up the dull : correct
liie mischievous, and encourage the timid. The temple of knowledge is committed to your
care ; the priesthood Is a sirred one. Erarv tascriptioa on tiie walk diould be kept
bright, that the dimmest eye may see, and the slowest comprehension may read and be
taught to understand. Your task is great, and everv member of the community, who ti
able to give you anv assistance, should come to y«ur aid in the great business of instmctian.
In this way much has been done ; — much, however, remains to be done. The elements of
learning have been sisApUfled, and thousands of diBdren have been beguiled along the paUi-
way of knowledge, who never could have been driven onward. Oeography has been made
easy and fascinating, and the elements of natural philosophy very pleasant ; and what was
ence difficult and nanh to young minds in many studies, has become attractive. Hi»>
tory, both sacred and prolans has assumed new charms as it has been prepared for the
■diool-room ; I speak of the history of other countries, not of our own. We have very good
Mstories— narrative, political, military, and constitutkHial ; but I know none, as yet, that can
be called literary — meaning by the term, a history of our literature, and of our literary mtn;
and probably it will bo a long time before we shall have such an one as we ought to have.
Our Sismondis, D'Israells, are yet to arise. You will strug^e in vain to make American
histoiT well understood by vour pupils, unless bii^raphical sketches, anecdotes, and literary
■electMns, are mingled with the tnass of general mcts. The heart must be afiected, and the
imagination seised, to make lasting knpressions uptm the memory.

One word to your pride : — ^you are aware that it has been said by foreigners, and often
ispaated, that there was no such thhig as American litOTatore; tiiat it wounl be in vain for
any one to seek for proofs ef iaste, uikid, or Uifonktation, wmth possessing, In our early re-
eords; and some of our citizens, who have never examined these matters, have rested so
euietly after these declarations, or so fidntly denied 'Uiem, that 4ra bold assertere of Uiese
hbelsnave gained eoQfidence in tauntingly repeating them. The great epoch in our history
— ^the revolution of 177&^-seemed sufficient, alone, to many of the present generation, to
give us, M a peoide, idl the celebrity and rank, among the nimons of toe earth, we ou^t to
aspire to, without toiking the trouble to go back to the previous ages of heroick virtue and
gigantiek fatboora. Many of the present generation are williiig to think that our anceston
mre a {nous and nersevmng laoe of men, who TeaHy did possess eome strength of charao>
ter, but, without further reflectkm, they are ready to aUow dmt a few pages are " ample
room and veiee enough" to trace their character and thefa: history together. I have ven-
tured to thmk difierently, and also to flatter myself that, at the present day, it would not be
a thankless task to attempt to delineate some of the prominent leatures of our ancestors in
jusiifination of my opinmn. This errour can only be eradicated by your assistance, and
that by Instilling into the minds of our children, in yaar every-day lessons, correct informa-
tion upon these subjects; — and while you lead your pupils through the paths of miscellaneoua
and claasieal liter8ture---and, at the present day, even the humblest education partakes of
much that Is of a classical nature— be it your duty, also, to make them acquainted with the
minutest portions of their country's history. No people, who do not love themselves better
than all others, can ever be prosperous and greal. A sort of inferiority always hangs about
hfan who unduly reverences another. If "know thyself," be a sound maxim for individual
consideration, '*Mnk tDell qfthyae^,** cdiould be a nationsd one, Patriotism and greatness
begin at the maternal bosom, are seen in the nursery and primary school, and quicken into
life in every advancing stage of knowledge. Guardians of a nation's morals, framere of in^
tellectual greatness, show to your chaise, in proper lights, the varied tal^ of your country,
in every age of her history ; and inscribe her gl(»iee oi mind, and beftrt, and deed, as with a
■un-beam, upon their memories,

Neuh York, Nov, 1829.

CONTENTS.

LECTURE I.

The Englkli language our inheritance ; all other pooflonaiona firom our own
industry. The care we have taken of it The language of a people a
proof of their advancement in knowledge. The efifect of climate on language.
Our language too much neglected. The language of the ancient Britons.
The Saxon language from Alfred the Wiae to Alfred the Great. The
change of the Saxon after the conquest. The ozigin of the English language.
For good poetry there must be a high degree of mental cultivation. The
English language enriched from many sources. The copiousness, and the
strength of the English language ; Specimens ; beauty, sweetness, majesty,
with spedmens for illustration. The diffusion of the English language.
The attention now paid to the acquiation of it The necessity of kee{ang
it pure. Thq origin of dictionaries. Dr. Johnson's labours. Dr. Web-
ster's dictionary. The invention of the Cherokee alphabet. See-quah-yah
the inventor ; the method of his invention of letters, and of numbers ; his
talents and character. The Cherokee newspaper, &c. - - - 9

LECTURE n.

Literature. Plan of liie following lectures. Greek literature. General
observations. Roman and Arabick literature. The value of lectures in
communicating knowledge. The state of learning when our ancestors
came to this country. The character of the colonists. Sir Walter Raleigh
sent to this country. The Virginia settlement. John Smith, his character
and writings. The pilgrims. The settlement of the province of Massa-
chusetts Bay. The value of the bible to the first settlers ; and to all men.
The object and hopes of the lecturer. .... 29

LECTURE in.

Sketches of some of the pilgrims ; Brewster, Bradford, Standish, Winslow.
Proofs of the intellectual advancement of the pilgrims. The books they
wrote ; Morton's Memorial, Winslow's Grood News, Mourt's JoumaL
The precarious situation of the first settlers. The colony of Massachusetts
Bay. Winthrop, as a magistrate and historian, Dudley, Sir Richard
Saltonstall, John Wilson, John Elliot, the apostle to the Indians. The
Sheppards and their vmtings. Nathaniel Ward, Peter Bulkley, Nathaniel
Rogers, Ezekiel Rogers. The founding of Harvard College. Presidents,
Dimster, Chauncey, Hoar, Oaks, Rogers, Increase Mather. Mathematical
science. John Sherman. Progress of literature in the ancient dominion.
Their clergy. Maryland s^led by respectable, catholicks. New-Y<Mfc
History of the Waldenses. Settlement of Connecticut; its distinr
guishcd men ; of New-Hampshire ; of Rhode Island. Roger Williams.
The character of the females of that age ; the cause of their mperioiity.
Genend remariis upon our progenitofB. • • 1 • . 43

A2 -a.y

6 CONTENTS.

LECTURE IV.
The characters of the Mathers, &ther and son. William Penn; the rapid
growth of his colony. The literature of Pennsylvania. The origin of
Yale College. Mention of Berkley dean of Derry ; his bounty ; his pro-
phetick poenL The administration of Grovemor SaltonstalL The liberal
views of Cale£ Burnett, his eloquence, and writings. Jeremy Dummer.
Lieutenant Grovemor Dummer. Charter of William and Mary ; the advan-
tages derived from it John Read, a luminary of the law. Lord Combury.
The literature of South Carolina. William and Mary College in Virginia.
A general summary, reviewing the first century to its close. - 68

LECTURE V.
A view of the population, difficulties, changes, and state of the colonies at the
commencement of the second century. Thomas Prince. The character
of Benjamin Franklin, David Mason. The mathematicians and astrono-
mers ; Travis, Ames, and Douglass. The metaphysicians, President Ed-
wards and his son. The discussion respecting the introduction of episco-
pal bishops. The writers on the subject, Apthorp, Seabury, Johnson,
Chaunccy, Mayhew. Sketch of Mayhew, The origin of Colombia College
in the city of New- York ; Brown, in Rhode Island, and Dartmouth, in
New-Hampshire. The mathematicians who distinguished themselves by
their observations on the transit of Venus ; Rittenhouse and others. Win-
throp's opinion on the evidences of Christianity. ... 75

LECTURE VI.
The excitement just before the revolution. The writs of assistance. Otis,
Gridley, Samuel Adams. Thomas Hutchinson. Josiah Ctuincy. Dr.
Samuel Cooper, his taste, eloquence, and fine writings. The massacre.
The proceedings thereon. The orators in succession on this anniversary.
The bold doctrines advanced. Attention to Oriental literature. Stephen
Sewall deeply read in Eastern languages. The republick of letters. The
influence of the student on society. ...... 89

LECTURE Vn.
The coolness exhibited by our patriots of the revolution. The conduct of the
Provincial Congress at Watertown, July 17, 1775. Their first views of the
battle of Bunker Hill. The Continental Congress. Their decision and mo-
desty. Their petitions to the king, and people of Great Britain. The style of
the pamphlets and letters of that period. Charleston, (S. C.) first celebrated
the 4th of July. Dr. Ramsay, and Dr. Ladd, orators. Judge Brecken-
lidge, evXogium, on the brave men voho hadfaUen in the contest with Great
Britain. A parallel between the oration of Pericles and the American
onUxr. Washington a sound, excellent writer. Compared with other
great chieftains. The conventions called in the several states for taking
into consideration the question of the adoption of the Federal constitution.
A succinct view of the speakers in some of the conventions, pro and con.
Fears and jealousies, hopes and anticipations. The deep interest foreigners
took in the question. The Remembrancer. The Federalist. The first
Ckmgiens. 1*he style of our early laws. The characters of the first secre-
taries. The debating talents in the first Congress. The relationship be-

CONTENTS. 7

tween literature and science. Changes in legal reasoning, and the causes
of it Theology, ite trials, ite virtues, and its literature. - - 103

LECTURE Vra.
Physicians and clergymen, the same for many years. The early physicians and
surgeons. The diseases they had to contend with ; periods of the preva-
lence of the small pox. Thomas Thatcher's book. Robert Child. Ger-
shom Bulkley. Dr. Douglass' work. Dr. Boykton. Botanists ; Catesb}^
and Clajrton, Dudley, and others. Hippocrates' description of a quacks
The physicians who figured as officers in the revolutionary war. The
heads of medical schools ; Rush, Middleton, Warren, Dexter, Waterhouse^
Smith, and others. Character of Dr. Holyoke, his great age and wcmdeiu
iul serenity of mind." Slight notices of several historians and biographen.
l^Iedical writers, and those who have touched both history and fiction.
Periodicals, newspapers, &c. The disposition of the English softening
towards our writers, and the country generally. - - - - 118

LECTURE DC
A general description of poetry and its uses. A succinct view of English
' poetry firom its early dawn in the twelfth century, to the time of Shakspeare^
or to the time this country was settled. American poetry and poets.
John Smith. Poetry of Morton's New-England MemoriaL Hooker's,
Norton's, Woodbiridge's elegiack verses. Bradford's, Elliot's, Wiggles-
worth's labours. Thomas Makin's verse, and Grovemor Wolcott's^ with
anonymous ballads, and love-lorn elegies. Green, Byles, Osbom, God-
firey, and Pratt. 139

LECTURE X.
The state of American poetry at the commencement of the revolution.

Hopkins, Dwight, Barlow, Humphreys, Hopkinson, Trumbull, Freneau.
Sewell, Linn. Lathrop, Paine, Prentiss, Boyd, Clifton, Isaac Story, Allen,
Osbom, Spence, Bxainaid. A prepared supplement to Gray's Elegy.
Reason for not mentioning living poets. Change of opinkm on the possi-
bility of uniting ornament with strength in our prose writing. Our own
country as good for poetry as any other, and our own dtizens as poeti-
caL 163

LECTURE XI.
The fine arts of a later growth than poetry ; the causes. The artists who
were bom or flourished in America. Smybert, Copley, West, Johnson,
Hancock. Stuart, a portrait Malbone. Trumbull, a short memoir. De-
scription of his four pictures, the property of the United States. Stan-
dard painting. Engraving. Sculpture. ..... 189

LECTURE Xn.
Tlie &culty of speech the prerogative of man ; and eloquence at all times his
boast The eloquence of Aaron. Its uses in all times and nations. In-
dian history is Ml of the passion for eloquence. The Winnebagoes ; their
speeches. The eloquence of Tecumseh. The varieties of eloquence.
First, second, and third orders of public speaking. The great opportunities
in our tee country fi>r becoming good speakers ; the pulpit, tho bar, and

8 CONTENra

the numenms pnblick aaBembliefl, so many schoob for kaming the art of
speaking. The eloquence in Congress. Our language not patrimciiia],
but maternal, by a just discrimination in forming the word to describe it.
The vernacular. The eloquence of our early ages. A sketch of a few of
our orators of a later period. Patrick Henry, Mr. Madison, John Adams^
Alexander Hamilton, Grouvemeur Morris, Fisher Ames, Samuel Phillips,
Samuel Dexter, Pinckney ; with attempts to mark the style of each as fiur
as a slight sketch would convey their different manners. - - 209

LECTURE Xin.
Our military character. The wars the colonies were engaged in. Chaiacter
of King Philip. Exploit of Mrs. Duston. '■■ The attack on Norridgewiock*
Lovewell's fight The sufferings of Virginia. The numerous attacks or
preparations for attack on Canada. The afiair of Louisbourg. The suc-
ceeding events. Braddock's defeat. Johnson's fight Montcalm, on Lake
George. The Indian Chief Hendrick. Shirley. Abercrombie, Lord
Howe. Amherst, Wolfe. The close of that war. The revolutionary war.
The people loyal ; the pangs of separation, the awfiil opening of the great
drama o( the revolution. The battle of Bunker Hill Death of Wanen.
The uses of the bkxxl spilt The necessity of being provided for war to
prevent it.- - - - - - - - - - 227

LECTURE XIV.
Washingtcni's first appearance at the head of the army. The veneration he was
held in. The expedition to Q^uebeck, daring and hazardous. Washington's
character developed at the battle of Trenton and Princeton. The taking
of Burgoyne. A sketch of him. The battles which followed as showing
their bearing upon events, and as showing the character of the American
people. The debt the present generation owe the past. How the h«ro should
be rewarded when living, and honoured when dead. What was prepaied to
be done, to perpetuate the memory of Washington. Hale, the martyr.
Pulaski. Kosciusko. L'Enfent Daniel Boone. West Point - 243

LECTURE XV.
The naval character of our country. Its earliest beginnings. The naval
force at the capture of Louisbourg, as taken from ancient documents. The
exertion for a naval force in Massachusetts. In Congress. Washington's
prompt conduct in regard to captures. The great success of the American
navy. The probable number of vessels captmed. A few of our naval
heroes of that age mentioned. The close of this war. The resusdtatioh
of the navy arising from commercial enterprise. Tlie proceedings in Con-
gress, 1794. The quasi war of 1798. The doings of our navy at that
time. Truxton, Shaw, and others. The reduction of the navy in 1801.
Its immediate increase for the war of Tripoli. Remarks upon that ; some
of those distinguished mentioned. The certainty of our continuing to be a
maritime people^ and keeping up a navy, drawn from the deep rooted par-
tiality seen for this kind of defence in eveiy expression of publick senti-
ment 266

Postscript 286

Appendix. -- 289

LECTURE I.

" Words are things."

Mirabeau,

Almost every thing the people of the United States now possess,
has grown from their own sagacity, industry, and perseverance.
The little patrimony they had, has been multiplied ten thousand
fold ; for they have been blessed by a kind providence, in their bas-
ket and their store. Their institutions, if in some measure copied
from those of other countries, have been modelled to suit the genius
and habits of the people, and have been changed and enlarged to cor-
respond with the growth of the nation. Then* language alone is
theirs by inheritance. They received it from their progenitors, anc*
have kept it impolluted and unchanged. It has been in different ages
here a little modified, as in England, to be a more explicit me-
dium of thought ; and taste and euphony have, at times, made some
exertions to drop one class of words and assimie another; but they
have destroyed none; and as occasion requires, those left out of
fashionable use, for a season, have, after a while, been called up and
restored to their former places in good company.

From the extension of commercial relations, and from the nu-
merous conquests of the mother country, it would have been natural
to expect that her language would have, in process of time, become
somewhat a different one from that of her colonies in this country:
but our commerce has followed hers so closely, and we have had so
entirely the benefit of her mass of literature as soon as it was known
to her own people, that the first adoption of a foreign word, or the
slightest change in the use of one of her old stock, has been noticed
on this side of tlie Atlantic ; and we have wisely followed the public
taste of the mother country, nor vainly thought that it would be
wisdom to struggle for an independency in letters, as far as they
regarded the use of our vernacular. This language was our birth-
right as Englishmen, and its preservation in its purity clearly
shows how much we value it. The language that, is addressed
to the ear alone is soon changed or lost, but that which is ad-
dressed to the eye as well as the ear, is long preserved by a twofold
impression upon the mind. The sight is more faithful than the ear,
and preserves her knowledge longer ; both are necessary to keep a

10 LECTURES ON

language alive in its purity. The study of the language of a people
is one of the best methods of sounding the depths of their know-
ledge, and of measuring their advancement in arts and arms, and oi
ascertaining the nature of their general pursuits and habits ; and
perhaps it may not be going too far to say, that geographical po-
sitions may be known by the examination of a nation's vocabulary
alone. Tlie soft air of Italy and France has given, in a long suc-
cession of years, by natural causes, operating upon body and mind,
and which might be easily analyzed, if we would take the pains to
do it, a delicious sweetness to the tones of the human voice, a me-
lody to the sounds of words, and a harmony in the construction of
sentences, which the inhabitants of the colder regions of the north
can never know among themselves. This principle is tested by the
still softer and more musical notes of the West India Creoles. With
them almost every word is vitiated in pronunciation, and reduced
to a sort of infantile imbeciUty, yet it is most musical. The Eng-
lish language has not with us, generally speaking, been deeply
studied by those who use it, either for the conmion business of
life, or by those who make it a vehicle of matters of high import
in enlightening and directing their countr5rmen.

English etymology has not, until lately, been a part of a classical
education. Our scholars have been content to take, and use, words
as they found them, sanctioned by good writers, without much en-
quiry into their derivations, or primitive significations; nor is it my
object to go further in these remarks than to show, that we have
kept a constant watch over our mother tongue, and if we have
sometimes, after great English models, laboured to smk many of the
good old words of our language, and to supply their places by those
formed from the Latin and Greek languages, yet that we were ready,
fh)m taste and judgement, to go back again, and take those difh
carded, home-bred words of strong meaning and peculiar fitness,
whenever the established writers have led the way. Several mo-
dern scholars have shewn us the force, precision, and even beauty
of our old English, and we hail this returning to the homestead as
an unfailing sign of good judgement. I have thrown together a few
observations upon our language, to induce the English scholar to
examine the treasures he is in possession of^ and to shew the reader,
that if our fathers' style does not always suit the present taste, yet
that they were masters of their vernacular, as well as deeply read in
the learned languages. And this I shall do, not by pointing out par-
ticular passages, but by calling the attention of the reader to the ge-
neral tenour of their works.

It is the belief of the learned, that all languages had a common ori-
gin; for there are words in all the languages they have examined,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 11

which bear relationship to each other. Sometimes the resemblance
or kindred features are near and strong, at other times remote, but
containing such resemblances as cannot be mistaken: and until some
other account more satisfactory is given by some retrospective seer,
I am willing to take the account given by Moses of the confusion of
tongues, as sufficiently true to answer the phenomenon which has
no other solution. I am a lover of words, for I do not believe that
there can be much reasoning of a moral nature without them; and
sure I am, that no man ever despised the science of words who un-
derstood it to any considerable extent It may be true, that the mind
may be so much engaged in the pursuit of various tongues as to en-
feeble its force in more severe studies; but the literary wdrld exhibits
80 few instances of this nature, that we need not fear the effects of a
pretty liberal attention to the languages; certainly, a careful exami-
nation of our mother tongue will not be thought improper by those
who object to the attention paid to the learned languages. The
origin, the history, the sweetness, the copiousness, the force and ma-
jesty, and importance of the Enghsh language, are subjects worthy
the attention of the English scholar in our country at the present
day, when so many facilities are offered him for the study of it;
such facilities, that one may learn more in six months upon this
branch of knowledge now, than he could have done in ten years if he
had commenced half a century ago.

The language of the ancient Britons, from the time they were first
known to the Romans, was Teutonic, or Sc3rthian. The people were
rude and fierce, and Iheir language had the same cast of character,
as far as we know any thing about it. When Julius Caesar first
landed on the shores of Albion, the people exhibited the highest
traits of courage, and met the polished armour of the skilful Roman
soldiers in daimtless nakedness. From this time, which was before
the christian era, until the conquest of Alarie, more than four centu-
ries these rude people were instructed by the Romans in arts and arms.
The sons of the native kings and chiefs were taught the philosophi-
cal and polished language of their conquerors; and this instructicm
was pursued and enforced as a mean of bringing the Britons to a
state of quietude and obedience. During this time many of the
Roman words had found their way into the native language, or at
least those formed from the Latin were in use. This is more evi-
dent in the names of places, perhaps, than in any other class of words.
Those Britons who acquired the Latin, wrote the native language in
the Roman character, as we now write the Indian dialects, or difler-
ent languages of the several tribes, in the same character at this day.
If the Scjrthians brought letters with them from Asia, they had pro-
bably been lost ; or if any relic of them was left, they were only used

12 LECTURES ON

as a sort of a Cabala, as the fragments of some languages were by
the Druids — such as by them were called Runic characters, some-
thing out of which to make a charm.

About the middle of the fifth century (449) the Saxons made their
first invasion, of any importance, of the island of Britain. Soon
after Hengist gained a foothold, Horsa followed; and Cedric and
other invaders took the same course; but it was not until after a
lapse of many years, that the island was conquered; and then, not
from the strength of the invaders, but from the dissensions of the
natives. This conquest was, however, a blessing ; for, notwithstand-
ing the Saxons were barbarous as well as the Britons, yet they were
a fearless, roaming race of men, who had made more improvements
in the arts of life than the ancient Britons, and their habits of think-
ing were more enlarged and approximated nearer to civilized life
than those of the natives of the island. The laws and institutions
of the Saxons were of a higher mental character than those of most
other nations then about them on the continent; but the Saxons re-
cieved a vast accession to their stock of knowledge, by the introduc-
tion of Christianity into the island in 596, through the auspices of
Pope Gregory, a most benevolent representative of Saint Peter.
This father of the Church sent the learned and pious Augustin on a
mission to Britain, who after many struggles succeeded in diffusing
the doctrines of the gospel amongst them, and in inspiring a taste
for leammg, and the arts of industry, and social life. If not before,
certainly at this time, the Saxon tongue became a written one, and
was soon expanded and improved by the attentive study of it among
those ecclesiastics, who wished to diffuse through it the knowledge
of the scriptures, until then a sealed book to the Saxons, and then
only partially opened.

About ninety years after the introduction of Christianity into the
island of Britain, Alfred the wise, of Northumbria, began his reign.
He had passed his youthful days, when by the death of his brother
he came to the throne of his father. His early years, and many of
his riper ones, had been spent in study in the cloisters of Ireland,
whose ecclesiastics were then more learned than all those on the con-
tinent, if we except a few in Italy. The Irish institutions of learn-
ing at this period furnished professors for those of France, Ger-
many, and many other places. Alfred, when in possession of power,
did not forget his taste for letters, but gathered about him as many
learned men as he could obtain. Adhelm, a West-Saxon poet, wrote
for his instruction and amusement ^* Flowers of the Bible," probably
a sort of dramatic paraphrase on some portions of scripture ; and also
treated his royal patron with some touches of the philosophy of that
age. The wise king bent his mind to improving his people and

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 13

their language at the same time, and shone conspicuously as a firm
supporter of Christianity and letters. He W£is the first to give a re-
lish for these pursuits to his nobles, who had hitherto found no de-
light but in war, or the chase.

The improvement of tKe Saxon tongue was, generally speaking,
constantly going on, although the knowledge of the Latin had
greatly declined from the time of Alfred the wise, until the time
of Alfred the great, who was born in eight hundred and forty-
nine. This monarch fills a wider space in the Saxon history than
all his predecessors, or those Saxon kings who came after him, al-
though his grandson was quite as great a man as himself. Alfred was
a pet child ofhis father, who took his son to Rome when he was quite
young, and brought him to France also, when Athelwelph, the father,
married Judith the daughter of Charles of France; but in all these
journeyings the young Alfred had never learned to read. It was his
fond step-dame who set about this task, and succeeded in laying the
foundation of making him one of the greatest scholars of that age.
He sought learned and good men from Ireland, France, and in his
own country, and commencing with the poetry of his own language,
which had taken fast hold of his affections when young, he pursued
it, until he had exhausted all the ballads and legends which were
written in Saxon, and then set about enlarging the narrow limits of
the Saxon muses, by compositions of his own, which, in fact, sur-
passed in excellence all the poetry of his country, as he did his pre-
decessors in civilization and knowledge. He was not content with
this, but learned the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and assisted to bring
the rich treasures of these repositories of wisdom into his own mar-
ket for the supply of his own people, and the refinement of his own
court. He was not a mere book-worna neither, for he was as ready
to fight as to write; to enforce laws as to make them. He was no
pedant, but the great instructor of his people, anticip^^ting ages by
the power of his understanding, and the reach of his genius. Insti-
tutions of learning arose under his fostering care. The son of Al-
fred, Edward the elder, was not a whit behind his father in his atten-
tion to the encouragement of learning, but having a regular ^uca-
tion, there was no necessity for such efforts as were made by his
father; and the infant institutions his father established were in a
flourishing state. The son of Edward, Athelstan, was a more pow-
erful Prince than his father or grandfather had been, and extended
his intercourse with the world more widely. The monastic institu-
tions which Alfred founded, Athelstan endowed, and gave them
books collected from every country to which he had access. What-
ever we may think of monasteries now, they were the protectors

and preservers of all the learning of antiquity, and the faithful
B

14 LECTURES ON

trustees of all the knowledge committed to their care when they
were first created. Through several changes of fortime, now
smiled upon by Edward the Confessor, and then neglected by his
ambitious successors, learning flourished or declined in the more
public institutions until the invasion of William the conqueror; but
it was not often that contemplation was disturbed in the convoit's
shades, for ages after his accession to the throne of England. Here,
indeed,

« The little, fiit, round oily man of God,"

laughed, sleptj or idled life away; " but these deep solitudes and
awful cells," contained men of true piety and profound learning;
arid to whose industry and wisdom we are now indebted for miicli
of our present advancement in knowledge.

In 1066 William defeated Harold, and became king of England.
His triumph was so complete that a sudden revolution was made in
the information, taste, and pursuits of men in that island. It was
natural for him to think his Norman language/, uncouth and rough
as it was, greatly superior to that of the Saxon, which he did not
understand. The Church and convent, and perhaps court records^
which had been kept in Latin, were now in many instances ordered
to be in Norman. The ballad makers who flocked round the con-
queror simg his praises in the Norman measure and language, and
even the deeds of former kings, whose praises had for ages been
echoed in pure Saxon, were now sung in the rude rhjnnes of the
minstrels of the Conqueror: and such was the influence of the new
order of things, that in the course of half a century the pure Saxon
was no longer to be found in England; and a new language, the be-
ginning of what is now our vernacular tongue, grew up there.
Ellis, a learned writer on these subjects, says this was effected in the
course of forty years after the conquest, and that this change in the
language of England was completely brought about m this time;
but we should be nearer the truth, I imagine, if we should allow
nearly a century for this transformation. The language was indeed
changed to the eye and the ear; but still a great proportion of all its
elements remained, and will forever remain, a strong proof that in
all the permanent improvements in civilization and knowledge, the
Saxons were greatly in advance of their conquerors. This change
assisted the advancement of knowledge ; for language when advanced
towards perfection, is the most labour-saving machine that ever in-
genuity attempted to invent. The scanty words found in a primi-
tive language are inadequate to the conveyance of refined or extend-
ed thought. By these simple elements the nice shades of difference
in thought could be no more than indicated, not fully conveyed b-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 15

the words written; therefore much was left to the imagination of
readers, which was supplied when language was only spoken, by
the looks, gestures, and accents of the speaker; hence arose the su-
periority, in the early times, of eloquence over written compositions.
The oral communication was then a better method of convejring
ideas than the record, however fully exemplified by the scanty lan-
guage then in use, without taking into consideration the charm there
has always been in a well toned and well regulated voice.

As language improved and expanded, the noun and the verb, the
first elements of language, were found insufficient, with all their de-
clinations and inflections, to convey thought accurately and forcibly.
The connecting links, the qualifying terms, the affirmations and ne-
gations, with the prefixes and affixes, to increase, change, or qualify
the power of the words, were sought for, and obtahied; sometimes
by a happy hit, which by frequent repetitions in time became usage,
and usage law; or by the elaborate reasonings of the scholar upon
the doctrines of analogies, or the principles of an easy composition
or arrangement of sentences. Sometimes the understanding direct-
ed in this work of composition and structure of language, but oftener
the ear ; and when at times the wise and the learned reasoned and
laid down the rule, the great mass of the people changed it for eu-
phony sake, and the learned at length came into the same use; for
custom is the despot over language. In the laws of language, as
well as in those of national policy, the people, after all, are the revi-
smg tribunals; not by their sudden impulses, but by the sober reflec-
tion of years; and even their own opinions are revised by their own
experience.

The English literature received its share of the acquisitions of
learning made by the crusaders; and the language of course was
greatly benefitted by the taste which these heroic adventurers awa-
kened and cherished. In these epochs of delicacy and refinement,
many of the coarse words were disused, and those better chosen and
more appropriate became fashionable. The English language gained
much from the days of Chaucer to those of Spencer; and more by
the taste of Shakspeare than by any other person.

It is a matter of some singularity that so little of the Saxon lan-
guage is known by our scholars, when on a strict examination we
find that our poets and prose Writers have used so many words
derived from the Saxon. In Shakspeare, taking out the proper
names, eight words out of nine are found to be of Saxon origin, as
exemplified by several quotations taken promiscuously from the
works of the great dramatist. Milton, tried by the same rule, would
give the proportion of six out of seven. Johnson's works, as he
coined Latin words and used them freely^ about five sixths are Saxon.

16 LECTURES ON

In our translation of the Bible, and the writings of Addison and
Goldsmith, and other writers of simplicity and purity, the propor-
tion of words of Saxon origin is still greater than in Shakspeare or
Milton. Our own declaration of Independence, and many other
American productions, are written in the style which contains a great
proportion of these words of pure Saxon origin. I will give a few
specimens of the use of Saxon words among our best writers; fair
samples of their style, and the use of good old English. The Saxon
words are in italics.

But no! the freshness of that past shall still

Sacred to memory's holiest musings be ;

When through the ideslfelds of song at willj

He rovedj and gathered chaplets wild vnth thee ;

When^ reckless of the worlds alone andfree.

Lake two proud barks, we kept our careless way.

That sail by moonlight &er the tranquil sea ;

Their white apparel and their streamers gay^

Bright gleaming (fer the main, beneath the ghostly ray.

SANDS.

While thus the shepherds watched the host of nighty
Oer heaverCs blv£ concave flash'd a sudden lights
Hie unrolling glory spread its folds divine,
(yer the green hills and vales q/" Palestine;
And lo ! descending angels hovering there^
Stretched their loose wings, and in the purple air
Hung ol'er the sleepless gaardmna of the fold:
When that high anthem clear, and strong and bold.
On wavy paths o^ trembling ether ran:
Glory to God — ^Benevolence to man —
Peace to the world,

PIERPONT.

A good man^s piety and virtue are not distinct possessions; tJiey are him-
self and all the glory which belongs to them belongs to himself What is re-
ligion'? 710^ a foreign inhabitant, not something alien to our nature, which
comes and takes up its abode in the soul. It is the soul itself lifling itself up
to its maker. What is virtue? It is the soul listening to, and revering and
obeying, a law, which belongs to its very essence, the law of duty. We some-
times smile when we hear men decrying human nature, and in the same
breathing exalting religion to the skies, as i/* religion were anything more than
human nature, acting in obedience to its chief law.

CHANNING.

There are some poems in the Saxon language which strongly
diow the rude, bold, and superstitious character of the Saxons before

AMERICAN LITERATURE. IT

Christianity was introduced among them, or had generally spread
through the island. The Volupsa, the sybil of the Saxons was called
Vola, is a poem given in an English translation by Turner, frontf
whom, with Bede, Ellis, Tooke, and Campbell, I have derived much
of my information on this subject of Saxon literature. It is a rhap-
sody on the creation according to the Saxon notions of it, and the
first lessons of wisdom given to man from his maker. The succes-
sive generations, with their history, are introduced, but only as a
landscape is seen by the transitory flashes of the lightning amid the
darkness of the storm. The Welch wrote at the same time with
abruptness, and threw the fire and fanaticism of their Druids into
the form of some wild and magic strain.

True poetry cannot exist until there is a considerable degree of
mental cultivation in the bard who makes it. Men must think and
feel, and reason, too, from cause to effect, before any delicacies of
poetry can be developed; but the strong ebullitions of genius raving
to soar to the regions of light and futurity, are scattered through the
early ages of poetry; and time gives these productions, perhaps, an
interest beyond their real merits.

The English language is now so enriched from the sources I have
mentioned, and other sources more recondite, and also from some
more recently made contributions to our stock of words, particularly
in terms of banking, trade^ and revenue, that it may challenge any
other language to show more words of clear and definite significa-
tions, than we have legitimatized and secured. The terms of art
are every day increasing, as well as those of the sciences, and are
constantly added for common use to our vocabulary. These, in ge-
neral, have been formed by new applications of old words to the
subjects, or by new compounds made to convey the idea of the use
of the invention.

The English language is full of strength. There are no feeble
words in it, such as are often made by an effeminate people; but
every part of the fabric is of good old materials or approved new
ones. There is no thought, or shade of a thought, that the English
language is not capable of conveying to the mind, if used by a judi-
cious, learned, and spirited writer. In the use of language to gain,
or to defend a point, much depends upon the skill and judgement of
the writer or speaker. The vocabulary of angels would fail to pro-
pagate a thought, that would wake the genius or mend the hearty
in the mouth of dulness or apathy. The soul of the writer or
speaker must breathe into his language the breath of life. The
earthly particles must be melted, as it were, into the ethereal, to give
a composition the spirit of intelligence and genius. The following
extracts, the first from Shakspeare, and the other from Milton, show
B2 3

16 LECTURES ON

But no! the freshness of that past shall still

Sacied to memory's holiest musings be ;

When through the ideslfelds of song at willj

He rovedj and gathered chaplets wild with thee ;

When, reckless of the tporldy alone andfree^

Lake two proud barks, we kept our careless way,

That sail by moonlight &er the tranquil sea ;

Their white apparel and their streamers gay^

Bright gleaming &er the main, beneath the ghostly ray.

SANDS.

WhiXe thus the shepherds watched the host of nighty
Oer heaverCs blue concave flash'd a sudden lights
7%e unrolling glory spread its folds divine,
O^er the green hiUs and vales of Palestine ;
And lo! descending angels hovering there,
Wretch' d their loose wings, and in the purple air
Hung &&r the sleepless guardians of the fold:
When that high anthem clear, and strong and bold.
On wavy paths o^ trembling ether ran:
Glory to God — ^Benevolence to man —
Peace to the world.

PIERPONT.

A good man^s piety and virtue are not distinct possesions; tfiey are him-
self, and all the glory which belongs to them belongs to himself. What is re-
ligion 7 910^ a foreign inhabitant, nx)t something alien to our nature, which
comes and takes up its abode in the soul. It is the soul itse^, lifling itself up
to its maker. What is virtue 1 It is the soul listening to, and revering and
obeying, a law, which belongs to its very essence, the law of duty. We some-
times smile when we hear men decrying human nature, and in the same
breathing exalting religion to the skies, as (/"religion were anything Tnore than
human nature, acting in obedience to its chief law.

CHANNING.

There are some poems in the Saxon language which strongly
show the rude, bold, and superstitious character of the Saxons before

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 17

Christianity was introduced among them, or had generally spread
through the island. The Volupsa, the sybil of the Saxons was called
Vola, is a poem given in an English translation by Turner, fronf
whom, with Bede, Ellis, Tooke, and Campbell, I have derived much
of my information on this subject of Saxon literature. It is a rhap-
sody on the creation according to the Saxon notions of it, and the
first lessons of wisdom given to man from his maker. The succes-
sive generations, with their history, are introduced, but only as a
landscape is seen by the transitory flashes of the lightning amid the
darkness of the storm. The Welch vn-ote at the same time with
abruptness, and threw the fire and fanaticism of their Druids into
the form of some wild and magic strain.

The English language is now so enriched from the sources I have
mentioned, and other sources more recondite, and also from some
more recently made contributions to our stock of words, particularly
in terms of banking, trade, and revenue, that it may challenge any
other language to show more words of clear and definite significa-
tions, than we have legitimatized and secured. The terms of art
are every day increasing, as well as those of the sciences, and are
constantly added for common use to our vocabulary. These, in ge-
neral, have been formed by new applications of old words to the
subjects, or by new compounds made to convey the idea of the use
of the invention.

18 LECTURES ON

&e natural strength of the English language; for without any ap«
parent effort, or artful selection, the words admirably convey the
devated thoughts which the authors had in their minds, and intend-
ed to put into an imperishable form.

" The cloud-capt towers, the goigeoos pahcei^
The Bolemn temples, the great globe itself;
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve^
And, like the baseless fiibric of a vision,
Leave not a wreck behind."

Tempest^ Act iv. 8cene 4.

" For in those da3r8 might only shall be admired,
And valour an heroic virtue cali'd :
To overcome in battle, and subdue
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite
Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch
Of human glory, and for glory done
Of triumph, to be styl'd great conquerors.
Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods.
Destroyers rightlier call'd, and plagues of men.
Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth,
And what most merits &me in silence hid.*'

Milton^ b. xi.

The beauty of the English language is conspicuous in English
poetry and prose. It is fortunate for our vernacular, that the lan-
guage of poetry does not differ, except in a few words, and perhaps
in no one, from our prose; for in such a formation of language, all
that is gained in the interchange with other nations in prose, is
transferred to verse; and all that is created or refined by verse, is
given over to prose, after due trial and final judgement of its use or
beauty, at the tribimal of public criticism. The following poem is
a specimen of that powerful, graceful beauty, which excites admira-
tion for its elegance, and respect for its strength. It seems to come
upon us with that calmness and divinity which it describes in the
god -of wisdom and taste, in his easy victory over the Python.
What a beautiful fable this is; it was made to show how easily re-
finement and wisdom can overcome and destroy that monster of the
literary world— a depraved taste.

Prize Poem.— The Belvidere Apollo. (1812.)

" Hkaxd ye the arrow hurtle in the sky 7
Head ye the dragon monster's deathful cry?
In settled majesty of fierce disdain,
Proud of his mighty yet scornful of the daiDy

AMERICAN LITERATURK M

Hm beea^enly aicher gtandi— no human Inith,

No periahaUe denizen of earth 1

Toulh Uooma immortal in hu beaidleas fiice^

A god in strength, with more than god-like graoel

All, all divine — ^no struggling muade glows,

Through heaving vein no mantling life-hlood flows ;

But animate with deity alone,

In deathless gloiy lives the breathing stone.

Bright-kindling with a conqueror's stem ddight^
BSs keen eye tra^ the arrow's fsiteful flight ;
Buns his indignant cheek with vengeful fire^
And his lip quivers with insulting ire;
Firm-fix'd his tread, yet light, as when on high
He walks the impalpable and pathless sky ;
The rich luxuriance of his hair, confined
In graceful ringlets^ wantons on the wind,
That lifts in sport his mantles, drooping fold,
Proud to display that form of fiiultless mould.

IVCghty Ephesian ! with an eagle's flight
Thy proud soul mounted through the fields of light,
Viewed the bright conclave of Heaven's blest abode^
And the cold marble leapt to life a God :
Contagious awe through breathless myriads ran,
And nations bowed beforo the work of man.
For mild he seemed as in Elysian bowers^
Wasting in careless ease the joyous hours;
Haughty, as bards have sung, with princely sway,
Curbing the fierce flame-breathing steeds of day ;
Beauteous as vision seen in dreamy sleep
By holy maid on Delphis' haunted steep ;
'Mid the dim twilight of the laurel grove^
Too fiiir to worship^ too divine to love.

Yet on that form, in wild delirious trance^
With moro than reverence gazed the maid of France;
Day after day the love-sick dreamer stood
With him alone, nor thought it solitude ;
To cherish grie^ her task, her dearest care^
Her one fond hope— to perish— or despair.
Oft as the shining light her sight beguiled,
Blushing she shrunk, and thought the marble smiled :
Oft, breathless listening, heard, or seemed to heai^
A voice of musick melt upon the ear.
Slowly she wan'd, and cold and senseless grown,
Closed her dim eyes, herself benumbed to stone.
Tet love in death a sickly strongth supplied,
Once more she gazfd, then feebly smiled, and died.

20 JLECTURES ON

Sweetness in a language is intimately connected with beauty.
Beauty may perhaps consist without sweetness; no one of taste would
say that the head of Apollo was a sweet one, while all agree that the
face of Venus is full of sweetness; yet, if beauty can exist without
sweetness, the converse of the proposition would be offensive to taste
and truth, to say that sweetness was ever found without beauty.
The impression which beauty leaves on the mind, is pleasure and ad-
miration; but when sweetness is superadded, the charm is increas-
ed to love and rapture. I have mentioned images that strike the
senses to illustrate those which are sentimental. This is the only
method by which anything ethereal can be made to afiSect us forcibly,
as we are now constituted. The dirge in Cymbeline is full of sweet-
ness and delicacy.

To fair Fidelc's grassy tomb

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Elach opening sweet of earliest bloom,

And rifle all the breathing spring.

No wailing ghost shall daie appear

To vex with shrieks this quiet grove ;
But shepherd lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.

No vtdthcr'd vntch shall hero be seen;

No goblins lead their nightly crew ;
The female fays shall haunt the green,

And dress thy grave with pearly dew !

The redbreast oft, at evening houns

Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gathered flowers,

To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When howling veinds, ahd beating raiii,

In tempests shake thy sylvan cell;
Or 'midst the chase, on every plain,

The tender thought on thcc shall dwell ;

Each lonely scene shall thee restore ;

For thee the tear be duly shed ;
Belov'd, till life can charm no more,

And moum'd, tiU Pity's self be dead.

The wailing ghost — The withered witch — The howling
winds, which at first thought seem to injure the loveliness of the

AMERICAN LITERATURE. %l

picture, fonn a fine contrast to all the tender and affectionate images
which are grouped around the grassy death-bed of beauty and in-
nocence. The effect of this contrast is forcibly seen in the picture
(rfProspero, with the snow of many winters upon his reverend head,
in the majesty of science and wisdom, and paternal affection, con-
trasted with the manly youth of Ferdinand, and the delicacy and
beauty of Miranda; and the finishing of the whole is the ugliness
and ferocity of Sycorax, with her fiend-begotten Caliban, " whose
nature nurture would not stick to?^

The majesty of the English language is conspicuous in the fol-
lowing extract from Akenside :

" Look then abroad through nature, to the range
Of planetd, suns, and adamantine spheres,
Wheeling unshaken through the void iTrnrwAngfl •
And speak, O man ! does this capacious scene
With half that kindling majesty dilate
Tliy strong conception, as when Brutus rose
Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fitte
Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm
Aloft extending, like eternal Jove
When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud
On TuUy's name, and shook his crimson steel,
. •. And bade the father of his country hail !
For lo ! the tyrant prostrate on the dust.
And Rome agaiii is firee !"

The majesty of the language is conspicuous also in the following
extract:

" Different minds

Incline to different objects : one pursues
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild ;
Another sighs for harmony, ^d grace,
And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires
• The arch of Heaven, and thunders rock the ground ;
When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air,
And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed,
Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky ;
Amid the mighty uproar, while below
The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad
From some high clifl superiour, and enjoys
The elemental war."

Our own writers furnish numerous specimens of the various char
racteristicks of our language. The chaste, pure, classical language,
abounds in Hamilton's prose, and Pierpont's poetry. For sweetnesS)
we might look into Aines's prose, and Percivsd's verse. Robert

fa UXTTURES ON

Treat Paine would furnish ns with many sentences in strong lan-
guage in both prose and verse. Dr. Dwight's works might also be
mentioned as exhibiting a fine selection of words and phrases in
communicating his thoughts. In fact, an hundred others among
our distinguished writers might be quoted for our purpose, to illus-
trate the statement that our language is copious, beautiful, sweet,
majestick, strong, &c. but we will not at this time make these selec-
tions, for my audience will probably call to mind as many instances
of all these traits in our writers as I can.

I need not dwell Jong <m. the importance of cultivating our mother
tongue, nor attempt to proye that it is becoming the triumphant
language of mankind, when it is known to all that it is now spoken
by fifty millions of enlightened freemen, who keep it purer than that
used by any other nation; and that the niunber now, to whom it is
Temacular, is five fold greater than it was fifty years ago. As Em-
pire travels westward with us, or over the immense plains of Asia
with the English, this language, whose origin and history, copious-
ness, strength, beauty, sweetness, and importance, have occupied our
past hour, will carry with it the blessings of sound political and
civil institutions, the blessings of letters and science, of virtue and
religion.

As our knowledge, political, civil, and religious, expands, and our
arts and sciences are extended; and the comforts and luxuries of
life increase, words of new significations and aptitude are required
to correspond with these advancements. A poverty of words is a
•ore sign of poverty of thought in those who have had advantages
to acquire a full supply? Not only the progress of knowledge, but
the feshion of society, has its influence over languag^^ and the time
has ajrrived with us, ihsX no word found in the Dictionary of our
language, that is used with good taste and judgement, can be consi-
dered as too learned for the social circle. It is neither affectation or
pedantry to use any proper word in a proper sense. There is too
much information diffused through the country, to require that con-
descension in the learned which strives to be simple and plain in
language in order to accommodate their hearers. The vocabulary
of the scholar and the publick man, should be opulent and well ar-
ranged. There should be no ^' res angusta domi" for an excuse for
himself to the publick, in his possession of the stores of his mother
tongue. These are at his command. Every one's warehouse of words
should not only be well stocked, but well sorted and arranged.
Sverysynonyme should be classed for a ready selection. Still, how-
ever, 1 would not be imderstood to commend that fastidiousness
that wakes to contentious valour in defeiMse of an accent, or strives
to mttrtyrd(»n lor the support of the pronunciation of a doubtfii]

.'''* ■/...•

AMERICAN LITERATURE. t$

word or syllable. No, it is only that free, generoof, tasteftd use of
language, and common regard to a just pronunciation, which shows
at once the affluence of thought, and the extent and polish of educa^
tion, tiiat I contend for. The conversation of the social circle is now
often rich and elegant, and even when it relaxes to trifling and play-
ftilness. Formerly there was a great difference between the written
language and that used in common conversation; but these styles
are more nearly assimilated, and both have been benefitted by it
Eloquence has ceased to strut in corsets, and to. walk only in
measured steps, and to speak only in affected cadences. Nature has
assumed her sway, and ease and grace prevail. Strong, beautiful,
neat, or delicate thoughts, should each have their appropriate dress.
The lion's skin to throw loosely over the shoulders, the succinct tu*
nick, the flowing toga, the sweeping robe, and the transparent veil,
should all be ready for clothing for the thoughts of the conversi^
tionist, the poet, or the orator, as these thoughts arise in their imi^
ginations, and are marshalled forth by their understandings for use
and display. Words should be the vassals of the mind, at the call
of memory; but at the same time should always, like the slaves of
the faithful, be used only in rigid justness or innocent familiarity.
Once pro&ned by an indecent use, their character is degraded fbr
ever. Necessity is the only true mother of invention in words as
well as in other things: wit and profligacy often degrade appropri*
ate words by indelicate uses. The languages of polished nations
alone are liable to this misuse or profanation. It is in the reckless
plenitude of genius that words are violated. A host of instanoes
might be adduced to illustrate my meaning, if it were proper; but
this is rather a subject for the eye, or the imagination, than the ear.
One or two instances might be named.

The voluptuaries of the Court of Louis 14th, called a pure white
wine Virginis Lac ; this was going far enough in all conscience ; but
another of a purple colour they called Lachryma Christi. To com-
pare the ruddy, joyous drops of the wine-cup, to the tears of a suf-
fering Saviour, was reaching the confines of blasphemy.

Every pure and elegant mind ought to rejoice in a freedom from
the fetters of bigotry and the prudery of excessive puritanism ; but
should never relax his vigils over the chastity of his mother tongue.
Morals depend more on taste, than philosophy, in her analysis of the
human character, is willmg to allow ; but no one will deny the ccmp-
rectness of the maxim of inspiration, that ^^ words fitly spoken
are like apples of gold in pictures of silver. ^^

For many centuries, in the early history of letters, much time
and labour were spent by the industrious and learned, in making

Lexicons, Dictionaries, Vocabularies, and Glossaries, or works on

Zi LECTURES ON

languages, by whatever name the compilers chose to give them.
They were of great use to the world in abbreviating the labour of
acquiring a knowledge of languages. Perhaps, the first that was
put into a good form for the learner, and for the learned, was an
Arabick dictionary, made in the ninth century by the scholars of
Grand Cairo ; a great number of Greek lexicons and glossaries had
preceded it. This work, it is said by their historians, was done by
order of the Caliph, who was supervisor as well as patron of the
work. At the same time, or soon afterwards, an encyclopedia was
compiled at the same place, which was unquestionably the first of
its kind ever known. Other nations soon followed the example ; and
the scholar who had pecuniary means might have had the advan-
tages of such a work, but he alone ; and it was not until after the art
of printing was discovered, about the middle of the fifteenth cen-
tury, that dictionaries came into common use. From this there
was a succession of dictionaries in our vernacular, down to Johnson,
who set himself to the task with a gigantick genius and a philosophick
mind ; well read in all the best works in the English language, with
a memory stored with apt examples and felicitous illustrations, and
patient of the most tedious details, he wrought day and night, for
many years, in the deep mines of etymology ; and by anal3r8is and
comparison, solved a thousand difficulties that his predecessors were
unable to grapple with. He had neither the aid of the learned or
the opulent, and when his work was finished, all who would have
been pleased with his fame, or benefitted by the emoluments of his
pains, had gone to another world. Such are the conunon results of
the exertions of genius and learning.

. On this great work all the lexicographers of our vernacular have
modelled their labours; and if, at times, they have added or amended,
Btill their ground-work was Johnson. The learned Todd has, with
great labour, brought Johnson down to the present day, with many
additions and some corrections.

. It has fallen to the lot of an American scholar to follow those
great men with success. To this mighty task he has devoted the
flower of his youtli, the prime of his manhood, and the wisdom of
the gray head : Webster's dictionary has been the labour of nearly
half a century. Like the Arabick dictionary, it might well be called
"an ocean of words," for it contains about seventy thousand.
About eight thousand of these, in common use, are derived from the
Greek, Latin, and French languages, and about forty thousand from
the Saxon and other kindred languages of the North, with the He-
brew, Arabick, Sanscrit, Coptick, &c. of eastern origin. The re-
mainder of the words in his dictionary have been taken from the
arts, sciences, and the learned professions, which ares, in general,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. »

compounds from various languages. Although grown old, and ex-
hauled by long and intense application, by frequent disappoint-
ments, by coarse criticisms^ petty insults, and heavy expenditures,
yet he does not, like his great prototype, dismiss his work with
frigid indifference ; he is not solitary or disconsolate, for he has
those about him, and connected with him, who can r^oice in his
fame, and share his rewards.

The study of the languages is not, in this country, confined to a
few learned men, but is pursued by many of those engaged in pro-
fessional business. Duponceau and Pickering, have written learn-
edly on this subject; and many others, who have as yet offered
nothing to the public, have with them, in addition to their labours
in the common track, made considerable progress in the examina-
tion of the languages spoken by the various tribes of North Amer-
ican Indians ; and it is now fully believed, that this examination
will afford the only clue to their origin, if ever one is found.

The Indians themselves are becoming philologists and gram-
marians, and exciting the wonder of the world, by the invention of
letters. The invention of the Cherokee alphabet, has excited the
astonishment of the philosopher in this country and in Europe ;
but as I have not as yet seen any satisfactory account of the pro-
gress and history of this greatest effort of genius of the present day,
I will state what I know of it, firom the lips of the inventor himself.

In the winter of 1828, a delegation of the Cherokees visited the
city of Washington, in order to make a treaty with the United
States, and among them was See-quah-yah, the inventor of the Che-
rokee alphabet. His English name was Creorge Guess ; he was a
half-blood ; but had never, from his own account, spoken a single
word of English up to the time of his invention, nor since. Prompt-
ed by my own curiosity, and urged by several literary friends, I
applied to See-quah-yah, through the medium of two interpreters,
one a half-blood, Capt. Rogers, and the other a full-blood chie^
whose assumed English name was John Maw, to relate to me, as
minutely as possible, the mental operations and all the facts in his
discovery. He cheerfully complied with my request, and gave very
deliberate and satisfactory answers to every question; and was
at the same time careful to know from the interpreters if I distinctly
understood his answers. No stoick could have been more grave in
his demeanour than was See-quah-yah ; he pondered, according to
the Indian custom, for a considerable time siter each question was
put, before he made his rei^y, and often took a whiff of his calumet,
while reflecting on an answer. The details of the examination are
too long for the closing paragraph of this lecture ; but the substance
of it was this : That b^ See-quah-yah, was now about sixty-fivtt
C 3

96 LECTURES ON

years old, but could not precisely say ; that in early life he was gay
and talkative 5 and although he never attempted to speak in Council
but once, yet was often, from the strength of his memory, his easy
colloquial powers, and ready command of his vernacular, story-teller
of the convivial party. His reputation for talents of every kind gave
him some distinction when he was quite young, so long ago as St.
Clair's defeat. In this campaign, or some one that soon followed it,
a letter was found on the person of a prisoner, which was wrongly
lead by him to the Indians. In some of their deliberations on this
subject, the question arose among them, whether this mysterious
power of the talking leaf, was the gift of the Great Spirit to the
white man, or a discovery of the white man himself? Most of his
companions were of the former opinion, while he as strenuously
maintained the latter. This frequently became a subject of con-
templation with him afterwards, as well as many other things which
he knew, or had heard, that the white man could do j but he never
sat down seriously to reflect on the subject, until a swelling on his
knee confined him to his cabin, and which at length made him a
cripple for life, by shortening the diseased leg. Deprived of the ex-
citements of war, and the pleasures of the chase, in the long nights
of his confinement, his mind was again directed to the mystery of
the power of speaking by letters. The very name of which, of
course, was not to be found in his language. From the cries of wild
beasts, from the talents of the mocking-bird, from the voices of his
children and his companions, he knew that feelings and passions
were conveyed by difierent sounds, from one intelligent being to
another. The thought struck him to try to ascertain all the sounds
in the Cherokee language. His own ear was not remarkably dis-
criminating, and he called to his aid the more acute ears of his wife
and children. He found great assistance from them. When he
thought that he had distinguished all the different sounds in their
language, he attempted to use pictorial signs, images of birds and
beasts, to convey these sounds to others, or to mark them in his own
mind. He soon dropped this method, as difiicult or impossible, and
tried arbitrary signs, without any regard to appearances, except
such as might assist him in recollecting them, and distinguishing
them from each other. At first, these signs were very numerous ; and
when he got so far as to think his invention was nearly accomplish-
ed, he had about two hundred characters in his Alphabet, By the
ud of his daughter, who seemed to enter in the genius of his
labours, he reduced them, at last, to eighty-six, the number he now
uses. He then set to work to make these characters more comely
to the eye, and succeeded. As yet he had not the knowledge of the
pen as an instrument, but made his characters on a piece of baric,

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 97

with a knife or nail. At this time he sent to the Indian agent, or
some trader in the nation, for paper and pen. His ink was easily
niade from some of the bark of the forest trees, whose colouring
properties he had previously known ; and after seeing the construc-
tion of the pen, he soon learnt to make one ; but at first he made it
without a slit ; this inconvenience was, however, quickly removed
by his sagacity. His next difficulty was to make his invention
known to his countr3rmen ; for by this time he had become so ab-
stracted from his tribe and their usual pursuits, that he was viewed
with an eye of suspicion. His former companions passed his wig-
wam without entering it, and mentioned his name as one who was
practising improper spells, for notoriety or mischievous purposes;
and he seems to think that he should have been hardly dealt with, if
his docile and unambitious disposition had not been so generally
acknowledged by his tribe. At length he summoned some of the
most distinguished of his nation, in order to make his communica-
tion to them — and afler giving them the best explanation of his dis-
covery that he could, stripping it of all supernatural influence, he
proceeded to demonstrate to them, in good earnest, that he had made
a discovery. His daughter, who was now his only pupil, was or-
dered to go out of hearing, while he requested his friends to name a
word or sentiment which he put down, and then she was called in
and read it to them; then the father retired, and the daugliter
wrote; the Indians were wonder struck; but not entirely satisfied.
See-quah-yah then proposed, that the tribe should select several
youths from among their brightest young men, that he might com-
municate the mystery to them. This was at length agreed to, al-
though there was some lurking suspicion of necromancy in the
whole business. John Maw, (his Indian name I have forgotten,) a
full-blood, with several others, were selected for this purpose. The
tribes watched the youths for several months with anxiety ; and
when they offered themselves for examination, the feelings of all
were wrought up to the highest pitch. The youths were separated
from their master, and from each other, and watched with great care.
The uninitiated directed what the master and pupil should write
to each other, and these tests were varied in such a manner, as not
only to destroy their infidelity, but most firmly to fix their faith.
The Indians, on this, ordered a great feast, and made 6ee-quah-yah
conspicuous at it. How nearly is man alike in every age ! Pytha-
goras did the same on the discovery of an important principle in
geometry. See-quah-yah became at once school-master, professor,
philosopher, and a chief. His countrymen were proud of his
talents, and held him in reverence as one favoured by the Great
Spirit. The inventions of early times were shrouded in mystery.

2S LECTURES ON

See-quah-3rah disdained all quackery. He did not stop here, but
carried his discoveries to numbers. He of course knew nothing of
the Arabick digits, nor of the power of Roman letters in the science.
The Cherokees had mental numerals to one hundred, and had
words for all numbers up to that ; but they had no signs or characters
to assist them in enumerating, adding, subtracting, multiplying, or
dividing. He reflected upon this until he had created their element-
ary principle in his mind; but he was at first obliged to make words
to express his meaning, and then signs to explain it. By this pro-
cess he soon had a clear conception of numbers up to a miUion.
His great difficulty was at the threshold, to fix the powers of his
signs according to their places. When this was overcome, his next
step was in adding up his different numbers in order to put down
the fraction of the decimal, and give the whole number to his next
place. But when I knew him, he had overcome all these difficulties,
uid was quite a ready arithmetician in the fundamental rules.
This was the result of my interview ; and I can safely say, that I
have seldom met a man of more shrewdness than See-quah-yah.
He adhered to all the customs of his country ; and when his asso-
ciate chiefs on the mission assumed our costume, he was dressed in
all respects like an Indian. See-quah-yah is a man of diversified
talents ; he passes from metaphysical and philosophical investiga-
tion to mechanical occupations, with the greatest ease. The only
practical mechanics he was acquainted with, were a few bungling
blacksmiths, who could make a rough tomahawk, or tinker the lock
of a rifle ; yet he became a white and silver smith, without any in-
struction, and made spurs and silver spoons with neatness and
skill, to the great admiration of people of the Cherokee nation.
See-quah-yah has also a great taste for painting. He mixes his
colours with skill ; taking all the art and science of his tribe upon
the subject, he added to it many chemical experiments of his own,
and some of them were very successfiil, and would be worth being
knovm to our painters. For his drawings he had no model but
what nature furnished, and he often copied them with astonishing
faithfulness. His resemblances of the human form, it is true, are
coarse, but often spirited and correct ; and he gave action, and some-
times grace, to his representations of animals. He had never seen
a camel hair pencil, when he made use of the hair of wild animals
for his brushes. Some of his productions discover a considerable
practical knowledge of perspective ; but he could not have formed
rules for this. The painters in the early ages were many years
coming to a knowledge of this part of their art ; and even now they
are more successful in the art than perfect in the rules of it. The
manners of the American Cadmus are the most easy, and his habits

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 80

those of the most assiduous scholar, and his disposition is more
lively than that of any Indian I ever saw. He understood and felt
the advantages the white man had long enjoyed, of having the ac-
cumulations of every branch of knowledge, from generation to ge-
neration, by means of a written language, while the red man could
only commit his thoughts to uncertain tradition. He reasoned cor-
rectly, when he urged this to his friends as the cause why the red
man had made so few advances in knowledge in comparison with
us ; and to remedy this was one of his great aims, and one which he ^
has accomplished beyond that of any other man living, or perhaps
any other who ever existed in a rude state of nature.

It perhaps may not be known that the government of the United
States had a fount of types cast for his alphabet ; and that a news-
paper, printed partly in the Cherokee language, and partly in the
English, has been established at New Echota, and is characterized
by decency and good sense ; and thus many of the Cherokees are
able to read both languages. After putting these remarks to paper,
I had the pleasure of seeing the head chief of the Cherokees, who
confirmed the statement of See-quah-yah, and added, that he was an
Indian of the strictest veracity and sobriety. The western wilder-
ness is not only to blossom like the rose ; but there, man has started
up, and proved that he has not degenerated since the primitive days
of Cecrops, and the romantic ages of wonderful effort and god-like
renown.

LECTURE n.

"They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth,
Of glorious parents."

The literature of a nation, thoroughly studied, affords the best
criterion, by which may be judged the principles and powers of a
people, as well as their rank in the scale of civilization : I mean
literature in its extended sense. In endeavouring to execute my
task, I shall show those men, and something of their works, who
have added to the stock of our learning, from time to time ; or those
who, by their eloquence or industry in teaching, or by the produc-
tions of their pens, have left us an account of the deeds of thehr
predecessors or contemporaries. I shall divide our history into
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80 LECTURES ON

four periods, of half a century each, for the sake of more easUy mana-
ging my subject. These periods are, indeed, arbitrary, it may be said,
and will not correspond with any remarkable events in politicks or
literature. This is very true ; but still the division may aid my la-
bours. The skilful painter of a panorama, divides his canvass into
portions before he takes up the pencil; but these mechanical
arrangements are not seen when the whole surface glows with life
and action. A writer may profit by such an example.

All civilized nations have made great exertions, in some period of
their history, to discover the origin of their literature, and have
rejoiced at every successful effort to trace up and open the fountains,
from whence the streams of knowledge have issued to gladden suc-
cessive generations. With many matters of well authenticated fact,
there has been much of fable and conjecture commingled. The
fieuthest East, the birth-place of science and letters, has been over-
hung with clouds for thirty centuries ; and if, for a moment, the eye
of genius has sometimes attempted to pierce them, it succeeded for
a moment only, and the splendid vision it unfolded was soon covered
again with a thicker mantle.

Even Greece, so dear to us by many sweet associations, can boast
of but little accuracy in her early history ; she has often substituted
for truth, the loveliest visions of fancy, and given the history of her
earliest worthies, from golden streams of fiction, rather than from
a series of facts. The portraits of heroes and demigods, have
generally been shown in the twilight of history, and the glories of
their acts have been seen in the faint rays of the sun ; while men,
mere men, have only been exhibited in the fulness of the perfect day.
But in every age there has been a disposition to know much of for-
mer times; the persons, dress, minds, manners, and modes of
thinking, of those of former da3n3, are sought after by us ; and no
subject delights us more than a history of their intellectual trea-
sures. This remark would have applied with equal effect to our
own country, if we had not been imder the erroneous impression,
that after the most painful search, nothing of value could be found.

In the early ages, the curious examined nature in all her virgin
loveliness ; and her beautiful forms made indelible impressions upon
the minds of those enamoured of her charms. We always love to
look back and contemplate things as they were. In the philoso-
phical days of Pericles, the Athenians went back with enthusiasm
to the days of Homer ; and when the Thebans were in a high state
of military discipline, and not so much depended upon individual
prowess as in the earlier ages of their warfare, and every event was
more a matter of calculation, the great objects of their admiration
were placed in a more romantick period. They went back to the

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 81

Trojan war ; when hand to hand, and foot to foot, the sons of godfl
contended in mortal strife, and fought and bled for the possession
of the daughters of men, as well as their own individual fame,
governed by such passions as are found in the breasts of mortal men
now-a-days. But if fiction be mingled with history, and it is im-
possible to make the great men of antiquity appear as they really
were, still it is delightful to look back upon ages past, and catch a
glimpse of them through the medium of their thoughts and opi-
nions, which do not deceive us, if their history does. This we have
a right to do ; it is no waste of time, no dereliction of duty, and is
not injuring any one, if we do not dwell on them so long as to for-
get the opinions and the subjects of contemplation of the great men
of oiu: own times. A man's business, most assuredly, is with those '
about him ; but it is for the interest of himself, and those around :
him, to draw knowledge and instruction from those who have gone
before him. The industrious husbandman who rises early, may,
before he enters his fields to labour in the furrow, or to gather in his
harvest, indulge himself for a few moments in turning to the rising
sun, and in extending his view over the distant landscape to enjoy
the sight of the afar-off mountain, the flowing stream, or the lofty
spire ; or may, if his taste should so direct him, cast a glance at the
solemn mansions of the dead, as the rays of light fall on their
crumbling tombs. Such contemplations will not enfeeble his hands,
or sicken his heart, or make him go reluctantly to his labours ; no,
it will teach him what he is, and what he has to do, and the neces-
sity of setting about it, that his task may be finished in season,
before tJie night cometh in which tvo man can work.

The lover of literature, who confines himself to the smallest cor-
ner of the vineyard, may, strange as it may seem, refresh himself
by viewing the fields where others have toiled through many a
weary day. The stores of literature lie before him, and from which
he may collect, for use, many lessons of wisdom ; for literature, in its
proper sense, is the transcript of the head and the heart of man, in
the thoughts of the one and the workings of the other, in every age
of his existence : all his sufferings, his joys, his hopes, his reason-
ings, -his anticipations, and even his imaginings, belong to the litera-
ture of the world ; yea, more— the descriptions of his country, of
hid kindred and friend^ ; of the flowers on which he treads, and of
the fountains which flow at his feet, and the dews which fall on his
head, and the atmosphere which he breathes, are incorporated in his
literature. Thus, thoughts embalmed in words, and principles in
thoughts and expressions, make the heir-looms of one generation
for another, and to which something is added every day.

It is by literature that we live, as it were, in the ages past as welL-

as LECTURES ON

. as in the present The well educated man brmgs into the narrow
compass of human life the knowledge of many years, and examines
in a single day the events of centuries. He travels back to the wis-
dom of Egypt, and measures the mind and weighs the science of
those who erected the pyramids and etched the hierogl3nphics upon
them. He dwells upon the literature of the Hebrews, and reads in
the books they have left an instructive lesson of human powers and
of human virtues and frailties ; and enjoys the verses of the poets
who sang the glories of that God who delivered them from the
yoke of Egypt and the house of bandage; and where can be found
pictures of a brighter colouring, or flowers of a sweeter flavour 1
In these early writings, all the images at once strike the mind as na-
tural, and all the sentiments flow directly from the heart. Their
religion, their morals, their whole history, are directly before us, and
are monuments of intellect that rise sublimely in the lapse of cen-
turies, a wonder to man.

The Greeks, too, drawing from the same fountains, have left us a
literature which cannot be named without emotions of pleasure.
Having a language of their own, their literature was seemingly indi-
genous, however deeply they might have been indebted to the
oriental store-houses that had been long open to them. The growth
of Greek literature was like all other improvements, progressive ;
for more than seven hundred years it was so. The Greeks were a
peculiar people ; their taste was pure, and their discrimination ex-
quisite ; and their understandings were the most acute of any people
who have ever lived. Their language proves this ; for so well was it
formed, that science and art are obliged to resort to it at this present
day for terms to convey a proper idea of their inventions and im-
provements. If we could forget their ambition, their volatility, and
frequent acts of injustice, the reader might think that he was coursing
over fields of light with beings of a superior creation, while he was
making himself acquainted with Greek literature. The Greeks
multiplied books to inform the judgment and warm the heart, and
which gave immortality to themselves and information to all suc-
ceeding generations. They created a code of laws for taste and the
imagination. What can exceed theur permanent fictions ? Their
mountains still drop with honey, their springs still flow, and will
forever flow, with waters impregnated with inspiration 5 and their
groves are still vocal vrith song. These creations of literary taste
are as imperishable as the mind of man ; and Attica may be, as it
has been for ages, a den of pirates and a place of skulls—yet no mat-
ter, a thousand successive pachas could not pluck from our minds
the lovely country which literatmre created, and has preserved. In
tluaformi and under tiieae fascmating guises^ the people of that age

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 83

fcNind out a metihod by which they have preserved every shade of
thought, and every change of feelmg, of which human nature is sus-
ceptible. Fiction has given truth some of her ornaments ; but they
were disposed of so tastefully, that she has been made more beauti-
ful for receiving and wearing them. This is emphatically the
triumph of letters ; but this triumph was not confined to that region
alone ; letters assumed their empire not only at Athens, but also at
Rome they claimed the wreaths of immortality. The conquests of
that mistress of the world have passed away, but her literature
never will.

When the Greek was no longer a free man on his own soil, or was
an exile in another land, and when the Roman eagles had drooped
their wings, literature found her altars among the Arabs ; her form
in some degree was altered, but her spirit was the same. This peo-
ple threw all their fierce nature into the pursuits of learning, and
surpassed their predecessors not only in works of imagination, but
in those connected with the sciences. They spumed the narrow
bounds of time and space, and imagined worlds of their own, and
peopled them with matchless beings, unshackled by mortal func-
tions, and human laws, and gave them powers and virtues of an
angelick nature. But in the midst of these delightful fictions of
literature, they forgot not the sciences, but pursued them with a
poetick passion. They invented the laws of numbers, and proved the
truth of them by the invention itself. They pursued, through the
alembick, the visionary doctrines of alch3rmy to the satisfactory re-
sults of ch3rmistry ; and, by experiments, brought science from the
dreams of avarice to enlighten mankind. That warmth of imagi-
nation which saw the times in the stars, found, by the light of the
mind which accompanied it, the precise movements of the heavenly
bodies ; and the delirium of the magician was changed to the de-
vout reverence of the scientifick astronomer. The choicest names
in the Arabic language were given to the constellations ; and these
have been preserved by those who knew but little of their origin.
The literature of Spain and Italy was the same in a new form,
gaining something at times, but losing much of its ethereal fire in
every new transformation. The Grauls and Britains at length came
in for their share, and have repaid the world for what they received.
The light they borrowed from the East is now reflected back, and the.
nations of Egypt &re learning the arts of war and peace from those
they once instructed. It would require volumes to trace the march
of science and letters through every age in its progress round this
world of ours.

It may seem to some that I am taking a wide range in these re-
markS) to get at our literature and science ; but there is not a page

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of it, however htnnble, that is not indebted to every one of these
sources for some thought, word, or expression. The literature of the
present day is made, in a good degree, out of the ruins of the litera-
ture of former ages. There are words in our vernacular from the
Arabick, the Hebrew, the Coptick, the Greek, and Latin, and many
other languages ; our arts, too, claim a lineal kindred, and our num-
bers are theirs unchanged. And shall we say that our literature is
nothing, because we have not in it the production of numerous cen-
turies ? Shall we, who have inherited all these spoils of time, conti-
nue to avow our poverty, merely because we do not wish to examine
our treasures ? Or shall we, because others possess more, think and
say that we have nothing ? No man, when the question is put to
him, will acknowledge that he is willing that we should be so supine
or neglectful. What then is to be done ? "Why, there is but one
course to take in this business. In the first fdace, examine thoroughly
into what we have had of learning among us ; in what shapes it has
appeared ; of what utility it has been to the country ; of what to
mankind at large. And how is this to be done ? Why, in the way
that knowledge has ever been acquired ; by painful investigation
into the history of our country's mind, and the pursuits of that
mind ; and this by carefully eoUecting what fruits of it are left, and
by examining its nature and growth. I grant that it is not to be
accomplished in a day, or by one man, nor by one course of mean&
The historian must take his part ; the biographer his ; the antiquar
rian his ; and the lecturer his part of it also. This latter mode of
diilusing instruction is not a novel one. Lectures were given on
national literature and on national glory in the walks of the academy,
in the groves of Egeira, and at the Olympic games. The doctrines
of religion have been so promulgated ; those of the Old Testament
and the New ; those also of the koran, and those of every sect in
every age of the world. The lecture gives in one respect a better
form than history, to the knowledge we may communicate ; for the
facts of the former may be interspersed with free and particular
remarks on men and their deeds, as the lecturer passes on to mat-
ters which the historian cannot condescend to, consistent with the
dignity of his subject. It is a better mode than that of the sermon,
in some respects ; because a sermon is properly a discourse made on
some particular subject, and, in general, drawn from aphorisms or
texts, and should be confined to them. The lecture is a better mode
of conveying information than the oration, strictly speaking. The
orator cannot, without compromising the dignity of his subject,
descend to minute details; he is obliged to glance at these, and
throw them aside as understood by his audience, while the lecturer
has a right to enter into the most minute details, to reason upon them

AlMtERICAN LITERATrmE. 85

when he chooses, and to draw inferences from sach axioms and
principles as may chance to come in his way. The lecturer has a
right to the same ornaments as the orator ; the same facts as the
historian; the same minute relations as the biographer; and the
same moral strain as the sermonizer. It is difficult, most certainly,
to pass from details to generalizing ; from figures of dates to figures
of rhetorick, and still seem to preserve unity of design with proper
effect ; yet it has been done by many, and of course the attempt is
not preposterous. In the numerous literary and scientifick institu-
tions in Germany, this mode of diffusing information is in general
use, and is considered of high importance in the acquisition of
knowledge. The habit is growing up in our seminaries, and will, I
have no doubt, come into general use. It is not so much the mass of
information that a well digested lecture contains on any subject of
literature and science that renders it valuable ; the excellency con-
sists, if it have any merit, in directing the mind to such topicks as are
worthy of investigation at another time.

The fields of literature have aptly been compared to a garden ;
we walk through it and partake of its flowers and fruit. Such
wanderings are delightful ; but how much more information might
be obtained in the same time, if the exoticks were designated and
separated from the native ; if the trivial and classical names of
plants were given at the same time ; and the merely ornamental
distinguished from those which combine both characteristicks. The
lectures of Sir Joshua Reynolds are models of this species of com-
position. But to return to the subject of my own exertions ; the
literature of our country is incorporated with the character of our
ancestors. In our own history, it is true, we cannot go back into
regions of fiction, and indulge in the reveries of the imagination ;
for solemn, well authenticated facts, meet us at every turn, and we
must trace them from date to date, and from man to man. Still, the
highway is full of subjects of deep interest, and the mind will find
food for contemplation at every step.

The spirit of inquiry had been abroad for more than a century
previous to the first date in the history of these American colonies.
The doctrine of civil and religious liberty had been broached and
diffused. The light of science and reason, and the love of letters,
were found in the ecclesiastical states ; and the sovereign pontiff
I«eo X. was among the great patrons of improvements, before our
ancestors came to these shores. The German monks had com-
menced the work of reforming the church, with an intelligence and
an earnestness that baffled all control. The little republicks of
Italy were contending with each other and the world, by exertions
in fervour of the arts and letters ; and the United Provinces of the

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Netherlands were teaching the nations of Europe, that commerce
and freedom, and the rights of man, were not the mere ofl&pring of
a heated imagination. Then the doctrines of a representative
government were beginning to be understood and valued; and
amid the storm of contending factions, the principles of civil and
religious liberty were seen to be taking root England, after strug-
gling with the strength of Spain, was rising in power and influence,
and advancing, even by her act^ of persecution, the progress of
liberty. At this moment, the people in England felt more than they
dared to express, and sighed for more than they enjoyed. Some
were ready to emigrate from a love of change and a spirit of enter-
prise ; while others were anxious to find an asylum from religious
persecution.

That the end depends on the beginning — ^FirUs origine
pendeV^—ia an axiom more applicable, if possible, to nations than
to individuals. This country had an auspicious beginning, when
considered in connexion with its destmies. It has been held as true
to history, that nations have their rise and decline in some regard
to centuries, as the human constitution to shorter periods of time.
History does indeed produce some examples to illustrate this posi*
tion ; but their beginnings and their elements were different from
those which are found in our history. Our beginnings were indeed
different from those of other nations in many respects ; we did not
pass through the long and painful stages of civilization, from the
dawn of knowledge to the full day of light, but commaiced vdth
the possession of all the knowledge which had been left by departed
nations, or treasured up in later times. Our ancestors came not to
this country as the savage hordes of the north came down upon the
cultivated grounds of Italy ; who took possession of the tasteful
villas, the vine-covered hills, the magnificent palaces, and the superb
temples ; and subdued by the charms of voluptuousness, and the
sweets of refinement, grew pliant, tasteful, and effeminate, and well
informed; and throwing aside their swords and coats of mail,
seized the pencil, the chisel, and the lute, and made an abode for the
graces in the bosom of the arts.

Our ancestors were not, like some colonists, disgorged from the
mother country to keep the remaining population sound and pure;
they were not a surplus mass thrown off to prevent national apo-
plexy, or political spasms ; such a population as sometimes went
from Attica to take possession of the islands in the numerous seas
about them, or to the more distant shores of Africa ; nor were they
sent by the parent country to extend her commerce, or to gain a
footing on, or near, the territories of other nations.

They did not come to this country as the Spanish and French

AMEBICAN LITERATURE. 87

colonists to the *^ sammer isles," allured by the golden dreams of
avarice, or by the glowing description of the luxuriance of the soil,
abounding in perpetual fruits and flowers; an earthly paradise,
teeming with all that, could satisfy the appetite or regale the senses ;
which for centuries have been the abodes of luxury, superstition,
profligacy, and crime. No; the sober calculations of forming a
'thrifty settlement, which would make a good home for themselves
and their descendants, operated upon some of the early colonists
of this country. A spirit of enterprise natural to enlightened men,
induced others to come and see, and in doing this, they became at-
tached and fixed to these shores which their posterity now inhabit.
Others had difierent motives for emigration ; a love of freedom in
thought and speech. They were fully sensible of their situation.
They could not anticipate all the occurrences which might happei
in their destinies, but they were determined to commence upon the
broad principle, that knowledge and virtue are the pillars of power
and security in every national code. They saw physical means
about them for an almost interminable increase of population.
The sea was on one side, and boundless forests on the other. Navi-
gable rivers were flowing into the oceans. Nothing but a thinly
scattered race of rude men stood in their way to the founding of an
empire larger than the world had ever seen. Nature seemed to
have waited from her birth until this hour for their coming, to give
them possession of her bounties. This was the place for contem-
plation, and a place to originate a new course of thoughts upon
political and civil liberty. There were, in these retreats, no shouts
of the conqueror, no moans of the conquered ; the time resembled
the cool of the evening, and the place the abode of innocence, when
and where other beings were at rest, and God walked with man in
his primeval state. Every thing, in America, was to be begun, and
every thing seemed to depend on themselves ; with this happy differ-
ence, however, between us and those in paradise, for our safety and
happiness were to depend upon eating freely of the tree of know-
ledge, which was forbidden to him who first sprang from the dust
of the earth. Here was offered the opportunity to cultivate the
mind without the trammels and fetters which embarrass and bind
those bom in aged and decaying communities. Here, plains, and
vales, and hills, offered opportunities for all the experiments of agri-
culture. No agrarian law was needed to give men an equality;
there was one passed already by nature without stint. The sites
for cities were unoccupied; and they exercised their judgments
upon this subject of a proper place to build them, without statutes
or restraints. The political compact was to be formed and altered
as the covenanters could agree; for there was no other lawgiver
D

88 LECTURES ON

than their own understandings ; no Solons but their own wisdom,
no IjycurgtLses but the severe discussions of their own judgements.
There was no syren to allure them from their duties to the rocks on
which they might split ; no soft laps of pleasure on which they
might sleep until their locks of strength were shorn. There were
no beds of flowers beneath which the serpents flattery and fashion
might glide to wound their naked feet with sharp stings. Indolence
to them would have been death ; and labour, that supposed curse on
man, vras a blessing. Thus stripped of every shackle, they began
their work of founding an empire. By the lights emitted from their
minds shall we trace the path they pursued, and the deeds they
performed. ITie light of the sun passes away with the going down
of the same ; but the accumulated light of successive ages of intel-
lect, like the precious stones which adorn the city of God, chases
away all darkness, and beams in eternal splendour.

But to descend from general remarks to more particular details,
and follow our country through its infancy, youth, and manhood, in
the progress of knowledge and growth of intellect, is more distinctly
the duties we prescribed as a course to pursue.

In 1584, Sir Walter Raleigh visited this continent, and, naturally
of a romantic turn, he gave such favourable accounts of it, as kept
alive the disposition to emigrate ; and which were also sufficient to
feed the hopes of speculators, who had turned their attention to
this country.

*nie first settlement of any importance was not, however, made for
several years after his return. It took some time for the adventurers
to pluck up at home, and transplant themselves in an almost un-
known world.

In 1606 the Virginia settlement began. It was not at first pros-
perous, but at length succeeded. ITie Dutch soon formed another
settlement on the Hudson river. The next settlement was made at
Plymouth by the pilgrims, as they were called by the historians of
that day ; and which appropriate name they have ever since retained.
The settlers of Virginia were allured by a love of gold, and the pros-
pect of aggrandizement, to commence their labours. They had a
leader in Capt. John Smith, more capable of commanding an enter-
prise, than any person history or fable has ever described.

He was acquainted with man in various countries, and had deeply
read the human heart. Pull of resources, he was capable of keeping
his followers together, when they would have deserted any other
man ; and of supporting them, when under any other leader they
would have starved. He did not confine his reserches to one small
region, but coursed along the seaboard to a high northern latitude ;
and in th<9 spirit of a great adventurer, drew a chart of his voyage,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 39

and set down most judicious remarks upon all he saw or did. Thus
Virginia has the honour of a founder, who was at once a hero, a scho-
lar, a man of science, and a man of the world ; and what is more,
" a most right honest man,^^

The old world were soon made acquainted with the new, through
the medium of his pen. He published his sixth voyage to Virginia
in 1606 ; the first voyage to New England, with the old and new
names, 1614; a relation of his second voyage to New-England,
1615 ; and a description of the country, in 1617 ; New-England's
trials, in 1620, and the general history of Virginia, New-England,
and the Summer Isles. Purchas had previously published Smith's
adventures in other parts of the world.

Such a man might be supposed to have given an impulse to an
infant settlement, beyond that of common adventurers ; but his fol-
lowers wanted concert and sympathy with each other, and did not
profit by his example and advice, as they ought to have done.

The pilgrims were of a different class. They had left England
for religious freedom ; had sojourned for a time in Holland ; and
had ventured upon these shores, in an inclement season, buoyed up
by the belief, that the God they worshipped would go before them,
and help them in the wilderness.

They had quarrelled with the church of England, and abhorred
the church of Rome. From the austerity of their Uves, and the
simphcity of their manners and habits, they had in their own
country received the name of Puritans, and had received it as a
common appellation. The doctrines they professed, it is not my
intention now to discuss, or offer an opinion upon them. No
matter who were right or who were wrong ; these Puritans had
evened a discussion, which ages will not close. A handful of men
were landed on the coast of New-England, and as it often happens
in human events, their very feebleness became their protection.
If their numbers had been considerable, the Indians would have
been jealous of them, and associated then, as they did fifty years
afterwards, to destroy them. They were at first to the natives
rather subjects of curiosity than fear. These emigrants were a
reading and a thinking people. They had been bred in the war-
fare of rehgious controversy, and each, and all, could give the
reasons for the faith within them. They had left numerous con-
nexions in England, who were anxious to hear from them; and re-
ligious friends, who were desirous of knowing how they prospered
in building up a church.

On the return of every vessel to their native land, men, women,
and children, wrote of all they had seen, suffered, or enjoyed, to the
most minute circumstance. The extraordinary events of every

40 LECTURES ON

changing season, (and every event is extraordinary, when men are
placed in new and singular situations,) were faithfully recorded by
the leaders of this little band, vrith the minuteness of a missionary
journalist, of the character of which they were. Distance of place,
and novelty of situation, give importance to trifles in themselves ;
and all the small thmgs have become great, from the greatness of
their results. But from whatever cause it may have happened, the
fact is certain, that every thing relating to these early settlers, has
come down to us in the most authentic form.

The next settlement, was that of the colony of Massachusetts
Bay, in 1690. These people came able handed, with wealth and
wise men, whose objects were of this world and the next united.
They were men of distinction in their own land ; were also learned
in all the wisdom of the age, and had well defined plans of religious
associations and political institutions. They began their labours at
once with courage, and pursued them with success. Here was at
once opened the widest field for their exertions. They could here
reason upon the divine right of kings without fear of the axe, and
speak of the Pope without fear of the faggot They constru^ the
Magna Charia as they pleased, and interpreted the Scriptures as
the Spirit gave them light and utterance. These second comers
were in full communion, in most things, with the pilgrims ; and the
course they followed was so nearly alike, that in the further view of
our subject, we shall not make any discrimination between them, in
a moral point of view ; for if these streams were not then united,
they ran side by side until their waters conuningled and flowed on
together.

I have said that they were acquainted with the literature of the
age; but the great fountain of their knowledge was the Bible.
From this they drew their morals 5 and where could purer morality
be found 1 From this they supplied their rehgious creed 5 and from
whence shall revelation come, if not from the sacred word ? From
this they drew their political creed, that " those who nUed ewer men
should be just, rvling in the fear of GodJ^ From the scriptures
they drew their knowledge of men; and what history is so full of
the workmgs of the human heart 7 From this book they derived
their knowledge of their vernacular tongue ; and I would ask, what
book there is to be found of purer English, than the translation of
the Bible? I am not contending for the accuracy of every trans-
lation ; but it will not be denied, when I say, that a very copious
vocabulary of good English words may be made from the pages of
the common version of the Bible.

Their philosophy of the mind, and their knowledge of the cha-
racter of the Supreme Being, was also sought for in the hallowed

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 41

pages of the Bible; precisely where they ought to have been
sought for.

It is by example as well as precept that we profit in our lives and
conversation, and what book can be found that will furnish us with
so many models of meekness, patience, honourable feehng, gene-
rosity, and affection, as the sacred volume ? It is full of historical
detail, of incident, and dramatic effect. There is in it every species
of writing from the simplest narrative to the most affecting tragedy.
The sweetness of its verse, the loftiness of its poetry, the boldness
of its delineations, and, above all, the warmth of its descriptions, and
the depth of its inspiration, all conspire to suit, in some part or other,
every taste and capacity. The child is delighted with reading the
Bible. The young man, yea, all men look into it for lessons of elo-
cution ; and the poets dwell upon it for models of composition.
Many of our fathers read the scriptures in the original Hebrew ; for
they were more than any other race of men of this country versed
in all the niceties and beauties of that language. It is a primitive
tongue, if any one can be called so, and it seems to carry you back
to the elements of thinking and speaking. I perhaps dwell on this
subject with enthusiastic fondness, but I love to come often and
drink of the

" Sweet waters welling from the sacred spring."

The settlers of the province of Massachusetts Bay had as much
piety, more learning, and more ambition, than the pilgrims ; they
began stronger handed, and if with no more fixedness of purpose,
certainly, with more clearness of design, than the pilgrims ; but no
men could have higher claims to moral worth than the first settlers
of Plymouth. The leader and first Governor of this bay province,
was a lawyer, and a most eloquent and learned man. There was a
precision and a legal cast of character in all their proceedings, which
show that the firamers of their laws were not unacquainted with the
technical language of the English statute books, and the courts of
justice. Their religious opinions prevented them from being fa-
vourites at home; but they were not forced to come abroad.
There was as much of adventure as of necessity in their emigration.
With their prayers for protection and prosperity were mingled
visions of their future glories. They had learned from the sacred
volume that means were necessary to produce ends, even when God
himself had ordered the thing to be done, and the connection be-
tween them could not be seen by the limited understandings of
men. The hands of Moses must be raised, that Moab might be
smitten, although his hand grasped no sword, and he was afar from
the field of battle. They fixed on the means which, in the ordinary
D2 6

-te LECTURES ON

course of providence produced such ends as they prayed for. To
watch the humble mansion as it was erected ; to hsten to all the pa-
triarchal instruction as it flowed at the family altar ; to contemplate
the rude structure in which public worship was at first performed ;
to note the infant seminaries of instruction as they arose ; to watch
the police, apparently as simple as that of the barbarians around
them, yet still guarded by every great principle embraced in the
charter of British Uberties, and the still greater principles of the
moral law, founded upon justice, and virritten on the human
heart ; to do all this, and more, would be a delightful task ; but it is
the privilege of but few to indulge minutely in these retrospections,
80 honourable to our fathers and so useful to us. Our fathers had
fellings, for they were but men. It will he found, however, that the
more they are inspected, and tried, the more conspicuous will be
their merits, and the deeper will be the sense of our obligations to
them for what they did.

I will endeavour, with as much justice and impartiahty as I can,
to go up to the springs of our institutions, and trace the sources of
our literature and sciences ; and will, as fairly as I am able, give the
brief history of the merits of the colonies as they arose and flourish-
ed ; but as I proceed through details of the history of their minds
and its productions, I shall ask for the candid remarks of the en-
lightened and liberal, and I promise to profit by judicious hints and
honest criticisms. I am nothing more than one of the pioneers in
the great work of redeeming our fame from the foul aspersions of
our enemies. I have written for the instruction of the rising, and
to awake the recollections of the risen generation. I invoke the
scholar and the patriot to aid me in this undertaking, that justice
may be done to our common country. The fond hope of sometimes
catching the ear of taste, and of eliciting the approving smile of
beauty, has often cheered me in my labours, but if the patriotick
should not hear my invocations, or taste lend her ear, nor loveliness
lavish her smiles, still I can console myself with a consciousness
that my admiration of the reputation of our ancestors, and the
wish to do some good to my fellow-men, were the strongest mo-
tives for my exertions.

AMERICAN LITERATUBE. , 48

LECTURE III.

*So ProTidence for tis, high, infinitfii
Makes our necessities its watchful tadi^
Hearkens to all our prayers,help8 all our wants ;
And e'en if it denies what seems our right,
ESthw denies because twould have us ask,
Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.'*

Ik making our researches, for the literature of any particular pe-
riod, we must necessarily go to the men of that age ; for who they
were, and what they did, are so intimately connected with what
they wrote, that it may be the better course to name some of those,
together with their works, who first enlightened the country by their
literary and religious labours.

In ^e little band of pilgrims, there were several men of cultivated
minds. The venerable Brewster, who was chosen the ruling elder
among them, had been educated in the school of diplomacy ; having
been secretary to one of the ambassadors of Elizabeth. He was a
brave soldier, and well acquainted with the military tacticks of his
time. His talents, united to his gravity, age, and sanctity, made him
a very proper person for a leader. Carver, the first governor of
Plymouth, was also a man of enterprise, intelligence, and great be-
nevolence, and quite a business man ; and his letters upon the con-
tract he had made with the Virginia Company, show him to be a
well educated one.

Bradford, who was governor after the death of Carver, was a man
of sense ; was bred a lawyer ; was a good scholar, well read in the
modern languages, and knew something of the classicks. This gen-
tleman kept a most minute and faithful journal of events ; but they
were not all published, and most of them have been lost. Some few
scraps have been found, which are now in the Massachusetts His-
torical collection ; but Moreton and others had read his manuscripts,
and it is probable, we have no small portion of their substance in
other works.

Miles Standish, their military captain, was not only a good soldier,
but highly respectable in point of acquirements ; having been ap-
pointed, in difficult times, an agent for the company in England,
and sent over as a financier ; and it was thought his mission was
well executed when he was able to hbe money at fifty pounds oa

44 LECTURES ON

the hundred ; so low was the credit of the colony. He probably
loved to fight belter than to pray, exhort, or teach ; and of course
he was not so much celebrated in the churches, as he might have
been, had he been more of a saint and less of a hero; but a braver
man never lived, than Miles Standish, nor a more useful one for an
infant settlement.

Edward Winslow, another of these hero-pilgrims, was also go-
vernor of the colony, and esteemed a fine scholar. He was one of
the most active and intelligent of the first emigrants. He journeyed
from place to place, visiting the several tribes of Indians, to keep
them in peace and quietness, and always managed them with great
discretion, being at once fearless of their power, and tender of their
feelings. He visited EJngland also, for the good of the colony, and suf-
fered imprisonment for the cause during the arbitrary rule of Laud.
His writings were valuable, and are now highly esteemed ; for he was
one of those few, in that age, who showed a true spirit of philosophy
in the midst of religious zeaL Purchas has preserved some of his
writings in his collections.

To be assured that this people were well informed, and understood
their civil as well as religious rights, we only need look to their con-
tracts, drawn up and signed on board the May-flower, on the 11th of
November, 1620. This was the very first instance of power, coming
without influence or control from the people themselves ; and the
style and matter of this Magna Charta of American liberties, do
honour to the intellects of those who formed it. The whole super-
structure they designed and reared, was based on knowledge and
virtue, and implied the establishment of schools and a supply of
teachers ; and of course we find, among their first acts, after the
immediate wants of nature were supplied, was the establishment
of schools, with penalties for any breach of their ordinances.

The records of this colony, kept during the time they were dis-
tinct and separate from the colony of Massachusetts Bay, and which
was so for more than seventy years, has been lately copied by the order
of the legislature of Massachusetts ; and it is found to contain many
excellent ordinances, decrees, or laws, well adapted to their character
and situation. The thorough-bred politician of the day might smile
at the simplicity of some of them ; but they were suited to the age
and the people for which they were made ; and this is the true phi-
losophy of all law making. The histories which we now have of
that age and people, are the best authenticated of any histories ex-
tant Morton's memorial, which is often referred to, is an invaluable
work. The writer, who was in that colony from early life to the
time of his death, was a relation of Governor Bradford. He was
also secretary of the colony, which gave him a fine opportunity to

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 45

know the pisussing events. The memorial was pimted m the life
time of the author, in 1660. It went through an ordeal of criticism
before it was sent to the press, being inspected by two learned, grave
divines, Mr. Higginson of Salem, and Mr. Thatcher of Weymouth ;
and the work and the author were commended to the faithful. In
1721, it was reprinted and published by Josiah Cotton, register of
deeds for the county of Plymouth. The editor, Mr. Cotton, was an
antiquarian, and he made an appendix to the work, but did not do
so much as he might have done at that day for his author, or for
himself. From this edition there have been reprints ; one in 1772,
at Newport, R. I., and another in 1826, at Plymouth.

This year, 1827, an improved edition of the memorial has issued
from the press in Boston, under the sanction of a name now connect-
ed with the literature of our country, in its earlier and latter days;
as an antiquarian,^ Judge Davis has . but few equals ; as a writer of
taste and talent, no superiour among the literati of the United States.
Besides the Memorial, and Winslow's Good N&itafrom Nhw-Eng^
land, and others we have mentioned^ there is a work called M)wr^'»
Journal, whose history seems to have been involved in some mys-
tery ; but the fortunate circumstance of finding a complete copy of
this work in 1819, has, in a good measure, removed all difficulties about
it. To Mr. Duponceau, of Philadelphia, we are indebted for this,
as the country is for some of the most learned and satisfactory
essays upon its history and literature which have ever been pub-
lished in it. The name of the journalist was not to be found in the
catalogue of the first settlers, but a critical writer in the North Ame-
rican Review, with much plausibility, places him among the " Mer-^
chant adventurers^^ of that day, who had been assiduous in obtaining
information from the New World. It was a time of great curiosity
in Europe respecting this country. The avaricious were still in-
dulging dreams of gold, although there had been so many disap-
pointments ; the lovers of religious freedom looked to it as an asylum
for the persecuted of all nations ; and the political economists were
hailing it as the future receptacle of the surplus population of de-
cayed and falling nations. These were favourable auguries, but
there were no certainties in the destinies of these adventurers. Nu-
merous tribes of Indians surrounded them, and it was uncertain how
much they would be assisted by more distant tribes, in some future
day, in case of war; and it was still doubtful what course the nations
of Europe might pursue in some remote period towards these set-
tlements, when urged by love of power, or gain, or revenge. The
seed sown had indeed come up well, the plants were thriving, but
what frosts, or blights, or mildews might come, it was beyond hu-
man foresight to divine ; but their hopes were m the Cknl of theif

* - ..

48 LECTURES ON .

racter. He wrote the first political pamphlet which was published
in this country, entitled " The Christian Commonwealth." This
work is full of free and noble principles; but the magistrates tpok
alarm at it, and the good man had to recant his opinions, or rather
apologize for this publication. He lived to the age of eighty-six ; to
a time when the colonies had grown to a large and flourishing peo-
ple. The tribe of Indians which he instructed is now nearly extinct.
There are not more than a dozen of them left. One of these Naticks
was tried, a few years ago, for murdering his grandmother, and tlien
all that were left of the tribe assembled. The Indians are lated to
fade away before the progress of civilization : it was so written in
the destiny of nations.
^ ^ ffr t u Cotton, Haynes, and Hooker, all came to this country in 1633, in

yV the same ship. The former settled in Boston, " and in compliment

(J'.' ' ty ^ ^ \^TS\^ in the expectation of his coming from Boston, in Lincolnshire,

did that ancient town in New-England receive its name." Mr. Cot-
ton was, until the time of his death, the chief of the apostles to the
new world. " A mighty fame as a scholar and preacher had pre-
ceded him," and this expectation was not tarnished nor diminished
by his conduct in the colony. Hooker went with Haynes to Con-
necticnt, after three years residence in Massachusetts, as ministers
at Newton. Haynes was one year governor of the colony before he
removed. Hooker wrote many sermons which were printed, but
his greatest work was on " Church Discipline."

Thomas Parker, another of the New-England fathers, came to the
country in 1634, and was for a year an assistant to Mr. Ward of
Ipswich, and then removed to Newbury, on a river which now bears
his name. James Noyes, his friend, was teacher to the same people;
and these learned men did much good in thefr settlement Noyes
acted in the capacity of a schoolmaster, and did much to enlighten
his flock. It is a remarkable fact that, in later times, this spot has
been noted for being the birth place of several learned men. Judge
Parsons, Professor Pearson, Professor Webber, Professor John
Smith, and several others of fame, were natives of Newbury, and bom
near the old farm of Mr. Parker. While Noyes was training (he
youthful mind, Parker was deep in the mysteries of the profession,
and produced a treatise which was much read by the learned of that
day. Mr. Parker was an amiable man, but some of his writings
brought him into the field of controversy with President Chauncey,
It is not to be presumed (hat these controversies had really so much
bitterness in them as, at this distance of time, we may suppose
them to have had. It was (he liashion of the day to break a lance
with a neighbouring divine merely to try each others' skill and
strength, and to acquire a fame for shrewdness and leaming. This

AMERICAN LTTERATUBE. 49

liabit has, in some measure, continued to the present day. It is a
bloodless war of words, and the discussion will be read by many
who would perhaps read nothing else.

The name of Shephard is intimately connected with the eariy
history of American hterature. Thomas, the first in the catalogue^
came to Boston and Cambridge, in 1635, as successor to Hooker,
who had left this vineyard abounding in labourers, and had set out,
through the wilderness, to form a settlement on Connecticut river,
at Hartford. Mr. Shephard was an excellent scholar, particularly
deep in metaphysicks, and yet he wrote without that obscurity which
is often found in the writings of men of that cast of mind. He died
in the forty-fourth year of his age, but he hved long enough to pub-
lish many works of merit. Several of them were very popular*
" T?i6 Morality of the Sabb€U\^ ^^ Neto-Eng-lancPa Lamentation
for Old England? 8 Erroura,** and also, "-An Explanation of the
Parable of the Ten Virgins?^ From this latter fountain, the great
Doctor Edwards acknowledged that he drew copiously in writing
his " TVeatise on the Affections.^ Thomas Shephard's eldest son
bore his father's christian name, and was heir to his father's talenti
and virtues, but he joined the congregation of the dead still younger
than his parent. President Oakes delivered an elegant Latin oration
upon his death. His days were devoted to hterature and religion.
There were two other sons of the elder Thomas Shephard, Samud
and Jeremiah. The first of these died at the age of twenty-seven.
Mitchell wrote his eulogy. The latter Shephard hved to a good old
age. These three sons were educated at Harvard College. Cott<m
Mather speaks of them with admiration, and says, "that having
three such excellent ministers is something better than to have three
orators, like the Curii of Rome."

Our ancestors had among them menof all casts of mind, and some
who, fearless of the austerity of the times, often indulged in wit and
satire. Of this class no one was more distinguished than Nathaniel
Ward. He was a lawyer, a divine, and a satirist, who came to thia
country, and for a while, was settled at Ipswich ; was invited to
preach the election sermon by the freemen, without consulting the
magistrates, and also to draw up a code of laws, which he did. Thia
code consisted of one hundred laws, called " the body of the liberties?^
Among his satirical works is one called " 7^ simple Cobbler (f
Agawam?"^ He was a high royalist, and this was in part written to
abuse the enemies of Charles I. It had been admired for its caus-
ticity, but its coarseness is equal to its ptmgency.

Peter Bulkeley was a gentleman who came to this country to en-
joy the Uberty of conscience and the hberty to preach. He was a
clergyman in Bedfordshire, and continued his labours there ^or
E 7

fiO LECTURES ON

twenty yean ; but on being silenced for non-confonnity, he left Eng-
land and gathered a church in Concord, within twenty miles of Bos-
ton. His fortune was large and his beneyolence unbounded. He
was said to have been very learned. He wrote Latin poetry ; some
scraps of which Cotton Mather has handed down to us. He also
published a celebrated work on " the covenant of grace openedJ^
This work went through many editions^ and was praised by the great
theologians of that day.

Nathaniel Rogers, minister of Ipswich, was a descendant of John
Rogers^ the martyr in Queen Mary's time. He came to this country
in 1098. He was one of the greatest of that distinguished band of
christian emigrants who suffered by the persecutions of Laud. He
is mentioned in high terms by Johnson, Winthrop, and Mather.

Ezekiel Rogers came about the year 1638y and settled in Rowley,
and was held in veneration by the people of Rowley and throughout
the colony. He preached the election sermon m 164dw In this he
advocated the pure democratick doctrine of rotation in office, and
strenuouMy urged the good people not to choose a governor twice
in succession : but they did not regard his advice. He was a publick
benefactor, giving his hbrary by will to Harvard College, and leaving
considerable property for the support of a clergyman in the town
of Rowley.

Many more of these founders of the republick miglft be named, if
our time would allow it, who, for liberty of conscience, left ease,
I^enty, and friends in their native land, and all the charms of ele-
vated society, and threw themselves upon the wilds of America.
Their hardships can never be fully told. They spent their lives in
subduing nature, and teaching an humble flock ; acting as patrons,
pastors, physicians, lawyers, and often as nurses to mind and body. A
lively sense of duty, and a full measure of grace, could alone have
supported them in their labours, while in their hearts they sighed
for the country they had left. Even in their dreams they visited
the t^ores of England, and could not but acknowledge that with aU
her faults they loved her still.

One of the most remarkable events in the history of our early
literature was the founding of a college in the Massachusetts colony
at Cambridge, in the y«ar 1636. Scarcely had they cultivated suffi-
cient ground to supply the wants of nature, before they began this
great work of establishing an institution of learning, that theological
learning should not be lost among them for want of education. The
projectors were wise men, and laid a good foundation. Tliey were
unfortunate in their first president, who proved a tyrant ; but he was
Boon dismissed, and an excellent man, President Dunster, entered
upon the duties of his office. He was a man of learning and great

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 61

mildness of character ; but, differingwith the great proportion of the
clergymen of that day on the subject of baptism, he retired from
office, about fourteen years after his appointment Chauncey suc-
ceeded Dunster. He had been a minister at Situate in the old colo-
ny. Dunster was a fine oriental scholar, x>articularly well learned
in the Hebrew ; and he set about revising the psalms which Elliot
and his friends had versified from David's. This corrected version
of Dunster's passed through many editions, and were used until the
version of Tate and Brady, and that of Dr. Watts, more particularly
took the i^ace of them. Under the administration of Dunster the
college flourished greatly, and acquured such fame in England, that
the sons of the puritans were de^rous of coming to this country for
an education. President Chauncey had been distinguished in Eng-
land, but falling under the displeasure of archbishop Laud, he came
to this country in 1638. This was a judicious appointment; for he
stood primus inter pares, as a scholar. Besides ibe dead languages
usually acquired, he was acquainted with some of the living orioital
languages, which were studied in England in his time by many of
the great lights of their universities. He was president for seven-
teen years, and the college prospered under his care. He had six
sons, all of whom graduated at Cambridge, and were eminent in
their day as divines and scholars. Dr. Hoar succeeded President
Chauncey. He was a learned man, of amiable manners, who had
moved in polished society ; but he had not enough of the sternness
of the pedagogue to succeed in the government of youths, and he
was obliged to leave his office in a rebellion of the students. This
was too great a shock for his delicate nerves, and he sunk under this
affliction in the same year of his resignation, at the age of forty-five.
Many learned men want the spirit of discipline to govern boys$ and,
in fact, every instructor has found this the most difilcult part of his
duty. He was the first president who was graduated at Harvard
college.

President Oaks, who succeeded Hoar, was also one of the sons of
Harvard. The office of president he held, and still continued pastor
of the church at Cambridge. His official life was short, for he died
in 1681. Dr. Rogers was his successor: but he died also within a
year after his installation.

Increase Mather was now appointed President, and although
tainted with the bigotry of the age, for he had entered deeply into the
delusions of the belief of witchcraft, yet he was a very excellent
president: fond of encouraging the emulous youths under his care.

Thus, this college, for the first half'century of the existence of the
colony, had flourished beyond a parallel in the annals of letters; had
been blessed with the munificence of the wealthy and the good, in

53 LECTURES ON

New-England ; had secured friends and patrons in the mother coun*
try ; had supplied the churches with learned divines to fill the places
created by the increase of population and those made vacant by the
death of the fathers of the American church ; and others of various
pursuits were found among the Alunmi of Harvard. Every man in
the province considered this institution as a monument he had assist-
ed to rear, and it became incorporated with every branch of church
and state. The temporalities were remembered in the testaments
of the wealthy, and the righteous were unceasing in their prayers
that, from this fountain, might flow streams refreshing to the body
politic, and such as would gladden the city of our God. The go-
▼emment of the commonMrealth have, from the beginning, made^
ih)m time to time, liberal grants for its support, and have constantly
extended its protecting hand in every hour of its existence.

Mathematical science flourished in the colony of Massachusetts
ftt a tety early period. John Sherman, who came to this country in
1634, and was for a short time assistant to the Rev. Mr. Phillips, at
Watertown, was eminently learned in the science of numbers. He left
Watertown, and sojourned for sevei^ years in Connecticut, and there
{^reached occasionally, but gaierally was employed in public life ;
but after the death of Mr. Phillips, he was invited to return to
Watertown, to his old parish ; and he accepted the invitation, and
took Upon himself the duties of a clerg3rman once more ; but his
lictive mind could not be confined to his parochial duties, for he
iHshed to do good in every way he could. On being appointed fel-
low of Harvard college, he delivered lectures on scientifick, moral,
ftiid religious subjects, which were attended by the students of the
university, and others. These were the first lectures ddivered on
sUch subjects in thi^ country. During this time, he published an
idmanack, intersperifed with religious remarks, which was a work
of much talent. If Cotton Mather may be taken as authority, he
was profoundly skilled in mathematics, and its kindred branches of
knowledge, natural philosophy and astronomy. His style of wri-
thig had nothing of mathematical drymess in it, but was lofty,
lowing, and eloquent. (Mr. German was blessed with a numer-
ous family, having twenty-six children, and some of his descendants
are among the first people in New-England; a greater number from
the female branches than from the male.)

Of the progress t>f the literature of the ancient dcmimion, during
the first half century, after it was so far settled as to form a regular
government, which was in 1620, 1 am not able to give much ao*
count ; not that I have not been sedulous in my inquiries, and con-
stant in my researches for this purpose ; but, as they were all church-
men hi Virginia at this period, and did not enter into the pcdemidcs

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 63

of the day, and no extraordinary man was driven by persecution to
her shores, it is but fair to suppose that they thought it wiser to en-
joy the hour, than to trouble themselves to record the occurrences
of their lives for posterity. They could not have been destitute of
classical men, when, in 1641, there were about forty clergymen in
Virginia extremely well paid for their services. The salary of a
clergyman was then ten thousand pounds of tobacco a year ; forty
shillings being a fee for a funeral service, and twenty for a marriage
one. Among these divines, as well as among the magistrates, there
must have been some men of high attainments. There was no
tolerably accurate history of Virginia until Beverley's, which was
published in England in 1665. He was a man of intelligence, and
seems to have written merely to correct the error, which was pre-
valent in England, on the subject of Virginia history.

Maryland was settled not far from the time of the planting of the
colony of Massachusetts Bay. For this enterprise the world are
indebted to the first and second Lords Baltimore. The adventurers
were catholicks, and are said to have been of high respectability. They
were as talented as any of the early colonists, and reserved to this
day extensive lands for the purposes of education. But there are but
few traces of their advancement in the cultivation of letters, for the
first half century of their existence. Yet to this state, as well as to
Virginia, many of the royalists fled during the time of Cromwell's
commonwealth ; and surely, many of these must have been fine
scholars ; but how they employed their time, during that period, they
have left us nothing but conjecture, as far as I can discover.

New-York, being all the time, from its settlement to 1664, in the
hands of the Dutch, we can say nothing of its literature ; but there
is no reascm to suppose that it was not very considerable. If the
country does not owe much to the Dutch, in the way of its literary
establishments, it certainly has cause to respect them for an indus-
trious progeny, always a blessing to any country. It is stated by
Lamberchtsen, a late historian of New-Netherlands, that this colony
was partly settled by the Waldenses of Piedmont, subjects of the
duke of Savoy, who fled from the persecutions of their sovereign ;
and Milton, and other writers, speak of them as among the most
virtuous and intelligent of mankind. Lamberchtsen's work has
been made known to us, for it was locked up in a language unknown
to most scholars, by one of the first writers among us, whose taste
and researches have done honour to his country, G. Verplank, of the
city of New- York ; and to whom others, as well as myself, stand
deeply indebted for much instruction, and many a fine model of
eompo^tion. He has burnished up the bullion of his ancestors with
admirable skill, and stamped it witii inscriptions of dassical taste.
B2

64 LECTURES ON

Connecticut was an emanation from the colony of Massachusetts,
and, like the former, was commenced by enlightened men. Win-
throp, the son of the governor of Massachusetts, an accomplished
scholar, came out from England with an agency of the Lords Say
and Brook, in 1635, and was chosen governor of Hartford colony.
Hopkins, Haynes, Wyllys, Thomas, Wells, and Webster, were
governors after him. The colony of New-Haven was begun in 1637,
and was governed by Seton, Newman, and Leet, imtil the union be-
tween the two colonies. Winthrop was the most scientific man of
his time among the colonists. He was intimate with Boyle and
Wilkins, and assisted in founding the " Royal Society ofLondonJ^
Douglass, who praises no one heartily, and abuses as many as he can,
says, "Winthrop, who died in Boston, March 26, 1649, was much
given to experimental philosophy and medicine." Several of his
receipts are still used by that family in charity to the poor. Some
of his pieces are to be foimd amongst the first philosophical trans-
actions of the London Royal Society. In fact, one of the volumes
of the transactions of that society was dedicated to him. He was
the principal correspondent of this society in the West, and they
had chosen the first men in every coimtry for this office.

Leet was a lawyer, and a man of talents and firmness. He, long
after his acting as deputy to Winthrop, protected Whally and Goffe,
the regicides, and behaved with high honoiur, and great kindness and
firmness, in this critical time. Hooker we have previously men-
tioned. Eaton was a liberal man, and gave largely for the support
of education. Five hundred pounds of his estate went, by a decree
of chancery, to Harvard college ; and twice that sum was given for
the support of schools in New-Haven, Hartford, and Hadley. These
early settlements paid the same attention to education that was be-
stowed upon this important subject in Massachusetts, and, with
them, it has been equally successful. They began wisely, and have
proceeded judiciously: but, as during the half century we are now
treating, they had neither university nor press, still they were im-
bibing the elements of that knowledge, and cherishing those princi-
ples, which, m the next half century, were to develope themselves so
beautifully.

New-Hampshire can hardly be considered, for the first half cen-
tury, as separate from the colony of Massachusetts, in a political
point of view, being then virtually under the government of the for-
mer. The settlers were the same sort of men ; and, in proportion
to their means, they pursued the same course in religion and letters.
In a few towns near Portsmouth, churches were gathered and in-
struction commenced ; and, by the second half century, York, Wells,
and other places, were in a hopeful forwardness, and were able to

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 55

sustain their part in the labours and trials of extending the blessings
of civilization and knowledge.

Rhode Island was first settled by Roger Williams, a native of
Wales. He came to this country in 1631, and was engaged in the
ministry in Salem, in Massachusetts. Some difficulties arising re-
specting his doctrines, he went to Plymouth colony, and from thence .^
returned to Salem ; but he became so bold in preaching his tenets,
both religious and political, that they could not endure to hear them.
He came out fully, and said that the charter of Massachusetts was
good for nothing, as the soil and sovereignty was not purchased of
the natives. These were unpalatable doctrines in that day. He
would not desist for the threats of enemies nor the entreaty of
friends ; and the magistrates passed sentence of banishment on him,
and he was exiled from the godly ; and, after many tribulations, he
settled in Providence, a name he gave the place of his rest, in grati-
tude to a kind providence that had directed him to so goodly an
heritage. He began by a noble act, which contained at once the
spirit of a true religion, and the dictates of a sound philosophy.
He began by tolerating all religious creeds. Toleration was then
considered a plant of a strange growth, that had sprung up in errour,
and would soon die in shame. The zealous dreaded it, as a poison-
ous weed that would blight all the sweet-scented flowers in the gar-
den of God ; one that would change the balmy breath of religion
to moral pestilence and death. How often have good men been
mistaken. This spirit of toleration is the bond of harmony, and
the protection of all religion. The liberty this great founder of a
state gave to others he took for himself ; for he changed his own
sentiments of baptism, and thought that man must vrait for the ordi-
nance until it was intimated to him from heaven. From religion, he
bent his mind to the politics of his settlement; and went, in 1643,
and afterwards, to England as agent for his colony, and, on his re-
turn, was made president of it. He was as magnanimous as he was
tolerant ; for living in the neighbourhood of several formidable tribes
of Indians, he could at any time have stirred them up to avenge
himself for his banishment ; but, so far from takmg this course, he
kept them in peace with the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay colo-
nies ; but, what is more particularly to our purpose, Roger Williams
wrote a key to the Indian language, which is a very learned, well
written book, and gives the present generation a better knowledge
of the advancement of the savages in their moral and social, as well
as political and warlike relations, than any other book of that age.
He attacked, as a controversial writer on religious subjects, Mr. Cot-
ton, Endicot, George Fox, and others, with great power and saga-
city. He tolerated all, but followed none. His own opinions were^

M LECTURES ON

perhapB, nerer yery fully settled in his own mind, and ttus he did
not conceal from others. His whole soul seemed constantly strug-
gling with a spirit beyond the feelings and the knowledge of the age
in which he lived. The eccentricities of the inteUigent are often
nothing more than the agitation of the mind, pregnant with new
principles and inventions, to which accident may give birth.

During the first fifty years of the existence of our settlements, the
lueful arts as well as letters flourished among them to a very con-
siderable extent. The private dwelling houses were made more
comfortable; prosperous villages grew up 5 a thrifty commerce,
commencing in the fisheries, was established ; merchant vessels and
ships for defence were built ; (three, before 1645, of 300 Umsy) se-
veral pubUc edifices were erected ; and school-houses convenient for
the great work of publick instruction were built in various parts of
the country. Much of this prosperity, with the blessing of God,
was undoubtedly the effect of the mental energies and moral char-
racter of the men who conceived and achieved the enterprise of es-
tablishing an asylum in this newly discovered world.

But it ought not to be forgotten that the character of the women
of that age, had much to do with the success of the imdertaking.
At the time of the first emigration to this country, the females of
I^gland were well educated, and had a higher rank in the scale of
mmd, than at any previous age in British history. This had been
effected, in no small degree, by the long and prosperous reign of
Queen Elizabeth, and her high reputation for talents and learning.
Fashion has often the same control over the mind, as over the dress
and equipage of a people. It was fashionable durmg the reign of
this extraordinary queen, to think women as capable of reasoning
upon public afiairs as men. Our mothers brought something of
this spirit with them. They knew from history, how much their
sex had done in the advancement of civilization and Christianity ;
and here was the finest field to prove that they still had the power
and inclination. Naturally generous and enthusiastick, women have
in every age been attach^ to the hero and the saint ; and have fol-
lowed the former to the battle-field, to bind up his wounds, and to
sing his praises after victory ; and the latter to the cross and the
tomb. The wives of the pilgrims who landed at Plymouth disco-
vered more than Spartan fortitude in braving dangers and in sup-
porting calamities. They were well educated women.

Among those who came after the pilgrims to settle the province
of Massachusetts Bay, were several women of high rank and su-
perior refinement ; Lady Arabella Johnson, daughter of the Earl of
Lincoln, and the wives of the gentlemen who formed the board of
magistrates, were high bred dames; as well as the wives of the

AMERICAN LITERATURE. fl7

clergy, and many of the wives of their associates. Some of their
chirography has reached us. It resembles the easy, flowing, fa-
shionable hand of the present day, while the writing of the men of
that day, is difficult to be read. We have all seen the needle-work
of that age in embroidered armorials, and genealogical trees ; and
these ancient records bear ample testimony to the industry, talent
and skill of the fair who wrought them. They shared the hardship
of the times. Many a lovely daughter, in that day, who had been
brought up in affluence, and with tenderness, on her marriage,
moved from her home and parents, to some new settlement where
her bridal serenade was the bowlings of the beasts of prey, as they
nightly roamed the desert.

If our mothers had a share, and a great share they had, in the
trials of those days, why should they not be remembered in the his-
tory of this new-bom empire ? I contend, and who will deny it,
that it required more courage and fortitude to stay on the skirts of
the forest, improtected by moat, ditch, or stockade, in the half
built cabin, with decrepitude and infancy, listening to every step,
anxious for the coming in of those who had gone forth in search oif
the foe, than it did to fight the foe when he was met. This was
more than Spartan fortitude ; for the enemy seldom saw the dwelling
where the heroick mother of Sparta waited to hear the fate of her
husband or children ; but ours were in constant danger of an attack
from the savages.

Such were our progenitors : such the race who came to a wilder-
ness, and broke it into fertility and made it a garden. Men who,
living, exercised the rights of jfreemen, and who died with the spirit
of the brave, in the hopes of the just : and if no monument mark the
sacred ground in which their ashes repose, yet, their labours, their
struggles, and their virtues, are matters of distinct history. The mo-
numents they left behind, are more durable than brass, and will re-
tain their polish longer than marble. They consist in the institu-
tions they founded and cherished, in their day and generation, and
bequeathed as a rich legacy to their posterity. There is not a prin-
ciple of religion, of liberty, or law, among us, at this day, whose
germ cannot be traced to them. ITie foundation stones of our
schools of learning, of our halls of justice, and of the temples of our
Grod, were laid by them in every hallowed right of consecration.
This goodly heritage, has been cherished and defended in good
faith, and has come down, extending wider and growing more va-
luable with every passing day : and when distant ages to us shall
come blessed with wealth, with dominion, and power, and shall be
covered with new intellectual glory, surrounded by arts yet un-
known, and sciences yet untaught, these early fathers of the land

68 LECTURES ON

shall receive an increased measure of fame. Then may it be said,
of this generation, that they were daughters worthy of their mothers,
and sons who did not disgrace their fathers; a people who had
transmitted unimpaired the blessings they had received.

LECTURE IV.

Antiquities, or remnants of history^ are tanqnam tabula naufiragii, when in-
dustrious persons, by an exact and scrupulous diligence and observation, out
of monuments, names, words, proverbs, traditions, private records, and evi-
dences, fragments of stories, passages of books that concern not story, and the
Uke, do save and recover somewhat from the deluge of time.

Verulam.

In this second half century, from the settlement of the country,
flourished the Mathers. The father, Increase Mather, has been
already mentioned as president of Harvard College ; but, in a lite-
rary view, the father and son may be said to have been contempo-
raries. They died about the same time, within five years of each
other, the elder 85, the younger 65. They were the most volumi-
nous writers of the age in which they lived, and have never been
exceeded by many in the variety of their subjects, nor in the amount
of their matter. The concerns of religion and literature, the duties
of political and domestick life, the subjects of the passing day, and
the most abstruse questions of science, all fell within their grasp,
and were honoured with their attention. It is no wonder, then, that
the estimates of their merits were various ; some influenced by one
motive and some by another. They felt every thing, and received
every measure of attention, from adoration to hatred, from indivi-
duals of the same community, at the same time. But after all, it is
not so very diflScult to form a just estimate of them at this day, al-
though it must be confessed, that some, who agree in other things,
disagree in regard to the merits of the Mathers. They were more
exclusively our own scholars, than most of those we have men-
tioned ; both were bom on the soil, and were educated at the same
university. The fether was bom at Dorchester, 1639, and the son
in Boston, in 1663. Their mmds were in a great degree alike ; but
the father had seen more of the world than the son, having been

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 59

several times in England, and mixed much in society, from the very
nature of his profession and offices ; and certainly had a better taste,
either natural or cultivated. Both were indefatigable students, and
were devoted to the same pursuits in letters and reUgion. The
father wrote more than an hundred works, which issued from the
press in this coimtry or in England ; nothing escaped them, from
cometogTttphia to witchcraft; from wizards to angels. They «^<
off an arrow at profane dancing'^ and threw off a pamphlet in far
vour of innoctdation for the smaU-pox. The father had a rich
imagination, great stores of learning, with great industry and apti-
tude for study ; which often arises from equanimity of temper,
which he had in a greater degree than his son ; and he possessed,
what indeed is a great acquu*ement, a happy facility of moulding the
minds of his pupils to virtue, and at the same time of stimulating
their appetites for knowledge. He was happy in his own exertions;
happy in his own success ; and still happier in a long life, to mature
his plans, and to give efficiency to his efforts. This was not all ; he
was thrice blessed in his son Cotton, who arose from the swaddling
clothes of the cradle a prodigy. In his father's mind, the Arabian
tale of the birth of Solomon was no longer a fable, of whom it was
said, that the first word he spoke, was the awful name of the Moat
High^ and the first sentence he uttered, was a confession of faith.
Cotton Mather, when an infant, checked the wandering and reproved
the vicious ; and received the blessing of the seer and sage, at every
comer and in every temple. At fifteen years of age, he had finished
his collegiate course, and was before the world as a scholar. His
piety was superiour to his talents and learning ; for he read fifteen
chapters a day in the bible, and reading, with him, was nearly com-
mitting to memory ; and multiplied his fastings and vigils, with the
zeal and perseverance of an hermit, who is destined to grace the
calendar of saints. He coursed over the whole circle of sciences
with great speed, and formed systems of his own, which, probably,
he thought at the time would endure with sun and moon, and be
as necessary to mankind as seed time and harvest He became a
colleague with his father in the ministry, and they lived and laboured,
each in the sunshine of the other. He preached sermons, of great
length, every Simday, and spent several afternoons in the week in
visiting his parishoners, for the purpose of devismg something for
their mental, temporal, and spiritual comfort. He wrote treatises
with almost incredible celerity, and scattered them profusely, in the
hope of doing good. One of his biographers says, that the number
of his works was three hundred and eighty-three. It were vain to
attempt to characterfee all of them by any general class. The sub-
jects, as well as the execution, were of different character. Franklin

CO LECTURES ON

ascribes to one of Mather's essays, all his usefulness in life. This
alone, one would think, were praise enough for one man ; but, in
addition to this, many have added, if possible, higher praise ; namely,
that the preacher, by his writings, had led them into the way of life
everlasting. If any thing could exceed his industry, it was his wish
to be useful ; and, if any thing could be imagined to transcend that
desire, it was his credulity. His mind was rich and fruitful, well
cultivated, but without regularity or order. He mistook method, or
arrangement and order, in the distribution of his time, for method
and order in the classification of his thoughts. This mistake is not
an uncommon one. His intellectual store-house was full to over-
flowhig ; but nothing there was threshed, winnowed, binned, or la-
belled. Whenever he attempted to spread before the public his own
thoughts, there came rushing to his memory ten thousand thoughts
of other men ; probably not so good as his own, but which, from the
pride of learning, must be used. These thoughts often dazzled his
own vision, and obscured or misled his understanding. Thus the
children of his own brain were bedizzened with the flaming colours
of all costumes, and were half-smothered in the tatters of outlandish
wardrobes. His logick was often overlaid by illustration, and the
force of his eloquence lost by vanity, quaintness, and punning.
Acquainted with the pure fountains of classical literature, and often
refreshed with copious draughts from them, he feared his piety
might be questioned }5y having this generally known ; and there-
fore he drew his quotations, and, m fact, formed his taste, from the
literature of scholastick divinity ; forgetting, that some waters may
be fit to bathe in, which might be deleterious to drink. Credulity,
which is often the concomitant of quick genius, and which is, gene-
rally, in itself harmless, was to him a sore evil, and left a stain on his
escutcheon, which will go down to posterity with his name forever.
When he was in the plenitude of his influence, in church and state,
the delusion of witchcraft was at its height. He had the keeping of
the conscience of the new governor. Sir Wilham Phipps, who was
an uneducated man, and never rose, though a man of strong mind
naturally, above the errours of vulgar life. With the ignorant, he
believed in demonology, and his confessor established his belief;
^for who should know aU about these things better than Doctor
Mather?^ This was the natural course of the governor's reflec-
tions. The statesman and divine acted in concert, and the country
was ransacked for instances, to show the great power of the devil ;
and all these instances Mather noted and conned by heart. The
victims died vsrith imprecations upon their heads. The sober and
thinking part of the community reasoned on 4he subject, and sifted
the argiunents and statements of the clergyman and the judges, and,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 01

at length, common sense prevailed, aaid the actors in the tragedy
were driven fr<Mn the scene with scorn and detestation. The delit-
sion passed off, but the stigma never will 3 no man has ever visited
the tomb of the Mathers, without thinking of these things, and, per-
haps, thousands who have visited it, knew nothing else of them than
the part they took in this sad affair. But why Mather, Phipps, and
the New-England judges here, should be more condemned, than the
judges in old England, who, not far from the same time, both before
and after, condemned imhappy creatures for the same crime, in the
same way, is not easily explained. The part Cotton Mather took in
this persecution has had a great influence on the minds of succeed-
ing generations ; even in their estimate of his literary and religious
reputation. All men can judge of a deficiency of common sense,
while few are capable of appreciating the depths of learning.

That the riper years of Cotton Mather should not have fulfilled
the promise of his earlier, is not wonderful, when we reflect, that
from his leaving college he had no rival; for, like the Turk, he could
bear no brother near the throne. For a mighty mind to be able to
produce its best efforts, it must come in collision with those of full
growth and maturity ; and gain the mastery by mental struggles,
with others of similar character. But, so situated was Cotton Ma-
ther, that, although others could, and did often mortify him by
neglect, yet he was still acknowledged by the people to be first and
foremost in every thing wonderful in science, or rare in letters.
Calef chastised him with much severity, in an admirable piece of
argument and satire, and fearlessly held him up to the world as
bigoted and vsdn. A few joined with Calef, but the great mass of the
good people found ready excuses for the great divine. In a few
years after his death, and even in his life time, the sour, caustick, un-
principled, but talented Douglass, sneered at his learning and laughed
at his vanity. The dull and vapid Oldmixon thought he could mend
his works ; and, in his own collections, has attempted to remodel
Mather, in style and manner ; and in attempting to remove his ex-
cresences, such as quaint aayinga^ and inapt quotations, and useless
pun, he left him a sinewless and marrowless skeleton of deformity.
In modem times. Cotton Mather has been treated by some with
severity, and by others with more justice, and, perhaps, by some,
with a measure of kindness. Honest Elliot speaks fully of his
feults, but is not unmindM of his virtues and his acquirements.
With faithful and intelligent Allen, there was no disposition to exag-
gerate his faults ; and it will not be said, that he was unmindful of
his merits. The learned Savage, passes him without much respect,
for honesty as a Uterary man, or for his value as a historian. In the
handp of the late editor of Morton's Memorial, he fares better than
P

62 LECTURES ON

he has before, for a long time. His estimate of this singular writer
is candid, and, in our judgement, more accurate than many others.
His virtues and his failings sleep together, and we would not have
any of his errours or bad taste propagated at the present day ; and
we beUeve there is no great danger of it, for his faults are not fashion-
able with us. To imitate his very errors, would be very difficult,
and would require more learning than men commonly have ; for
those faults cost much labour and great memory. It is the fashion
to neglect such writers as Mather ; the dress is antiquated, but we
hope never to be entirely debarred, by the tyranny of fashion, from
once in a while looking over Bunyan, and keeping company, for an
hour or so, with Christian and his wife, in their homely progress on
the way to heaven ; nor be obliged to throw away the quaint em-
blems of the pious Quarles, or any of his thoughtful brethren,
because they may seem, to some, uncouth in their guise.

At the commencement of the second half century, from the first
settlement of Massachusetts Bay, Penn began his colony, and laid
out his city of Philadelphia, which grew more rapidly than any
previous settlement on the continent. The foimder was a rare man ;
possessing talents, virtue, fortitude, perseverance, caution, benevo-
lence, and toleration, with great political sagacity. He made a treaty
with the natives, founded upon reciprocal advantages, which was
fidthfully kept for seventy years. He was a lawgiver, who built all
his maxims on the principles of justice and a knowledge of human
nature. His aim was for the best interests of man, as a reasonable
being. He had suffered, and knew how to forgive. He had been
persecuted, and had seen that persecution begot opposition, and
opposition, strifes and bloodshed. He saw that knowledge and vir-
tue were the pillars on which every political fabrick must be built, to
endure any length of time. With broad and just views, this great
lawgiver began his commonwealth ; and its rapid growth justified
his claim to superiour sagacity and wisdom. In the course of fifty
years, Philadelphia took the start of older settlements; and has
never, in the slightest degree, lost her high claims to distinction.
In 1749, Douglass says, that Philadelphia had two thousand and
seventy dwelling houses, and eleven places of publick worship ; and
that some deserving gentlemen had established " a laudable academy
in Philadelphia, with a publick spirited design of encouraging lite-
rature; that is, political and natural knowledge;" and mentions,
also, that it was in a flourishing condition. This is the seminary,
which was commenced by Franklin and his associates in 1742 ; ex-
tended in 1749 ; and in 1753 was established as a college, and put
under the charge of Rev. Dr. William Smith, who had a great repu-
tation for polite literature ; and, at the same time, the Rev. Francis

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 68

Allison was called in, as vice provost, and his labours contributed
much to the prospects oif the institution, and the general diffusion of
literature in Pennsylvania and the neighbouring states. The city
of Philadelphia has been more rapid, and, at the same time, more
flolid, in its growth, than any other in the annals of modem times.
At the period when the first temple of learning was erected in the /
Athens of America, the ivy had mantled the age-stricken edifices of j
Cambridge.

"While Harvard College was continuing to flourish, under the fos-
tering care of all classes in society ; Connecticut, having increased
in population, sufficiently to begin to think of no longer being in-
debted to her neighbours for seminaries of learning, commenced a
collegiate institution in 1701. The first charter was a narrow one.
It confined the trustees to the holding of lands, not exceeding five
hundred pounds in value. One hundred poimds currency was
granted, yearly, to support the seminary, and Saybrook was re-
solved upon, as the proper place to begin the undertaking. Mr.
Pierson, minister of Killingworth, was made rector. The assem-
bling of students, generally, was at his house, while some remained
under tutors at Saybrook. This division, at the threshold, was in-
auspicious, but, after several serious disasters, the trustees fixed on
New-Haven, for its location ; and in September, 1717, the first com-
mencement was held there ; but it did not receive its name until
September 12, 1718, when a splendid commencement was got up for
the occasion of giving it a name, and spreading its fame through the
state. As at the establishment of Harvard College, requisitions
were made, not only upon the government of the state, but on the
friends of learning in England and in America. Elihu Yale, Esq.,
an East India merchant, bestowed stocks and books, to a considera-
ble amount, and gave something of importance, by will ; but this
bequest was, in some way, frustrated. Distinguished individuals
in Connecticut gave freely, as did many others in Massachusetts
and Rhode Island. Dummer, of the former province, and Brenton,
of the latter, gave liberally in money and books. The patrons of
the college abroad, were Sir Richard Blackmore, Sir Richard Steel,
Drs. Bennett, Calamy, "Woodman, Halley, Bentley, Kennett, Ed-
wards, and Mr. Henery, and Mr. Whiston. Mr. Cutler was the se-
cond rector, but soon resigned on becoming an episcopalian. In
1723, the charter was enlarged. In 1725, Elisha Williams was
chosen rector. In 1732, the general assembly of Connecticut
granted the college fifteen hundred acres of land. They intended
to follow in the precise steps of Harvard, in the great work of edu-
catiGfi; for it was expressly "ordered, at the first founding of the
college, that when no special provision was made by the trustees.

64 LECTURES ON

the laws of Harvard college, in the province of Massachusetts Bay,
should be the rule."

In 1728, the Rev. Dr. George Berkley, dean of Derry, afterwards
bishop of Clo)nie, fired by the most enthusiastic visions of the
coming glories of the new world, left England for these western
shores, with a charter for a college, to be established either at Ber-
muda, or on the American continent. He soon saw that Bermuda
would not answer his piu^wse, and came to Rhode Island, and there
purchased a fine country seat, where he might reside, while he
could take a view of the country at large. Liberal funds had been
granted to the bishop and his associates for the noble undertaking-,
(it is said, to the amount of ninety thousand poimds sterling,) and
which had been paid into the treasury. While the benevolent dean
was casting about him, for the best place to fix himself and build his
college, the British minister seized all the funds, for a marriage por-
tion for the princess royal, and at one dash of his pen, destroyed the
whole plan. The dean, finding all his hopes at an end, in 1732 made
a deed of gift of his farm in Rhode Island, to the trustees of Yale
College ; and directed that the income from it, should be appropria-
ted to the support of three scholarships, to be bestowed upon the
best classical scholars, in each year. This gift is called the DearCM
Bounty, and has had a fine effect on the students of that college, by
exciting a spirit of emulation among them. In 1740, Thomas Clapp
succeeded Elisha Williams, who had resigned. In 1744, the char-
ter was again enlarged, and the rector, by this charter, was in future
to be called president ; and the president and trustees of Yale, has
been the style of the corporation, ever since. The reputation of the
bishop of Clo)nie, has been a subject of panegyric, ever since his
friend Pope ascribed,

" To Berkley every virtue under heaven ;"

and his name is commemorated at Yale, by the poets and orators of
every passing year. Thus was the second literary institution of
our country established by the exertions of the learned and the
wise ; and has ever been a national blessing. Bishop Berkley was
a scholar and a poet. A quotation, of a single line, from a short
poem of his, is often made by the friends of this country :

" Weattoard the course of empire takes its way,"

As the little poem is extremely scarce, having seldom been pub-
lished in this country, I have transcribed the whole of it from the
"Anniversary discourse, delivered before the New- York Historical
Society," by one of the most distinguished scholars of our country,

AMERICAN LITEBATURE. «

Gulian C. Verplank, Esq., now member of congresg from the city of
New-York. This single discourse is a mine of information to the
lovers of American literature ; and to this work I am much itt-
debted for many valuable facts.

The mufle, dsgusted at an age and cfime

Barren of every glorious theme,
In distant lands now waits a better time^

Producing subjects worthy hxoe.

In happy climes, where from the genial 80%

And virgin earth, such scenes ensue,
The force of art by nature seems outdone^

And fiincied beauties, by the true.

In happy climes, the seat of innocence,

Where nature guides, and virtue rules ;
Where men shall not impose, for truth and sense^

The pedantry of courts and schools^

There, shall be sung another golden age^

The rise of empires and of arts;
The good and great, inspiring epick rage >

The wisest heads and noblest hearts.

Not such as Europe breeds, in her decay
Such as she bred, when fresh and young i

When heavenly flame did animate her chy»
By future poets shaH be sung.

Westward the course of empire takes its way ;

The four first acts aLready pest,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day ;

lime's noblest ofispring is the last

While this institution was risdng up by the zeal of the benevolent
and the good ; Connecticut was blessed by the government of Gur-
don Saltonstall, as chief magistrate. He was a grandson of Sir
Richard Saltonstall, one of the first settlers of Massachusetts Bay.
The governor had been a preacher, bat his fame for wisdom, in
matters of civil and political life, was so extraordinary, that he was
taken, as it were, by force, and made chief magistrate ; and his case
is an exception from the general charge of volatility in the people:
for he was chosen from 1707 to 1724, without any diminution of
publick respect, or without a rival. He was indeed a rare man ;
with a ne^le and commandmg person— a generous and sympathizing
D2 9

(W LECTURES ON

heart, a fascinating eloquence, with profoond erudition and cour-
teous manners ; he was irresistible among the people, and first also
in the synod, the council-chamber, and the judgement-hall. His
wife was equally renowned, and lived longer to do good. She was
a patroness of Yale and Harvard Colleges, to several churches, and
other institutions of piety and learning. The house of Madam Sal-
tonstall was resorted to by the intelligent and the good, as the
abode of a prophetess, or a mother in Isi*ael. It was a high honour
to be accounted one of her friends ; for her discernment was such,
that the hypocrite in religion, or the pretender in knowledge, was
soon discovered and discarded.

In every age of darkness and superstition, we find some minds
superiour to prejudice, and which fearlessly rise above the mists
around them. Such an one was Robert Calef, a merchant of Bos-
ton, who was in business at the time of the delusion of witchcraft.
He saw how the people were misled, by some of the higher classes
in society. The governor. Sir William Phipps, was the most
zealous prosecutor, aided and directed by his father confessor,
Cotton Mather, and assisted by most of the commission, who tried
those unfortunate persons, who suflered for this supposed crime.
Calef wrote many private letters, and published some communica-
tions in a pamphlet form ; but as the printers were alarmed at publish-
ing frequently, he was induced to issue a volume on the subject. He
opposed reason and common sense, to fanaticism and overstrained
constructions of scripture ; and had many readers and more converts,
than at that time dared avow their sentiments. The attack upon
the Mathers, was considered by the parishioners of these influential
divines, as the most imprudent and wicked of all slanders ; and
they published a defence of their pastor, and treated Calef as a vile
free-thinker. The Rev. Increase Mather, President of Harvard
College, to show the students in what horrour such a man as Calef
should be held, had some of CalePs works burnt in the college
yard; as impious and infidel productions were by the common
hangman in England. But after all, common sense prevailed, and
in fact, was never entirely lost sight of in the community ; for in
looking over the records of the trials for witchcraft in 1602, 1 find
tiiat the court found it difficult to bring the jury to convict the per-
sons charged ; and that one foreman of the jury was dismissed by
the court, for refusing to find a verdict on "the spectral evidence,"
as he could not justify it to his own understanding, nor find it
sanctioned by any fact or rule in the scriptures. Calef lived to see
his views of this delusion become the general opinion, and that of
most of the commission ; for they were tried by judges, under a
i^edal commission, as is g^ifirally the case in England, when state

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 67

policy requires such a course should be pursued. Calef died in
Portsmouth, New-Hampshire, to which place he had removed to
spend his old age with some of his children, loved and respected by
all liberal minded men.

Among the most accomplished scholars and writers of the age, in
which he lived, was William Burnet ; who was for some time go-
vernor of New- York and New-Jersey. His first speech to the le-
gislature, after he came to that government, was celebrated for its
ease, dignity, and elegance, and has seldom been equalled in this
species of composition, now so common throughout the land. On
the accession of (xeorge 2d, he was removed from his government
to that of Massachusetts. In this office he had some difficulties ;
but with him, as a politician, we have nothing to do at this time, but
only as a scholar. His eloquence was of the first order ; his man-
ners were most x)olished, which gave a grace to his great learning.
He had laid the foundation of his knowledge, under the care of his
father, a learned prelate, and of Sir Isaac Newton. In such a school,
he was taught to think for himself, and he improved upon his
lessons. CJovemor Burnet wrote several works of celebrity, one of
which is, " an essay on the scripture prophecies." His taste, and
talents, had a very salutary effect upon tiie literature of his day.
He every where ridiculed the quaint style of the ecclesiastical
writers of his time ; and the Mathers were the persons, generally,
against whose writings his polished shafts were levelled. He out-
lived Cotton Mather about a year and a half.

Contemporary with Bumet, was Jeremy Dummer, who was an
honour to the literature of our coimtry. While he was in college,
the President, Dr. Increase Mather declared him "by far the best
scholar that had ever been there ;" which his succeeding reputation
evinced to be a just encomium. From Harvard, he went to study
theology at Leyden ; but, although he was considered as great in
this science, he preferred politics and jurisprudence to the creeds of
Calvin, or the annotations of Whitsius, the professor of theology at
Leyden. As agent for the province of Massachusetts Bay, his ser-
vices were greater than his rewards ; for while he was writing most
ably in defence of the cTuirter, he was dismissed from his office ; not
for any sJleged misconduct, or neglect of his duties ; but he had
been employed by Bolingbroke, and that was sufficient to destroy
his popularity in Massachusetts. He had the misfortune, which is
indeed a great one, to be in advance of the knowledge of the times.
In the ages of rusticity and ignorance, the elegance of Chester-
field would have passed for egregious foppery, and the science of Sir
Humphrey Davy for necromancy. Jeremy Dummer was a great

68 LECTURES ON

friend to learning in this country, and was a very considerable
patron to Yale College.

Lt Governor Dummer, who was in office under Burnet, and was
for a while, locum tenens of the chief magistracy, after the death of
the governor, as he was before his arrival, was a man of considerable
acquirements, and a very good officer. A friend to learning and
piety, he gave a considerable sum to build the first house of publick
worship in HoUis-street, in Boston ; and also, a noble farm in New-
bury, in the county of Essex, to establish an academy in that town ;
at which seminary, some of the first scholars of the present age re-
ceived the rudiments of their education ; and it is now, notwithstand-
ing the larger seminaries which have grown up in New-England,
in very good credit. The building in which the school is kept, is on
the farm which supports the instructors ; and is shaded by the trees,
which more than a century ago, the munificent benefactor of learn-
ing planted with his own hand.

The charter of William and Mary, 1602, although opposed by
many of the first settlers, was undoubtedly advantageous in many
respects. The union of the old colony with that of Massachusetts
Bay, was one of the beneficial results. A more parliamentary shape
was given to legi^alive proceedings ; and a more distinct line was
drawn between legislative, judicial, and executive proceedings. The
patriarchal form, which is admissible in a small and infant com-
munity, is not sufficiently powerful or regular when that commu-
nity has considerably increased. As Cotton Mather would have
said in such a case, the commands of Jacob were not sufficient to re-
strain the ungover ned passions of his sons, Simeon and Levi, when
his family had became large, and the Patriarch had grown old. The
profession of the law, had been confined to a few, and those few
were restrained by the rules and regulations of the magistrates ; but
when this charter went into operation, the courts assumed a more
legal character. It was under this charter, that the witches were
tried 5 but it should be remembered, at the same time, that this de-
lusion was arrested in its course, by the happy thought, of bringing
actions of defamation against those who made the foul and false as-
persions upon their neighbours ; charging them with being united
to the devil, and working deeds of darkness. In all the trials for the
crime of witchcraft, there is no mention made of counsel to the pri-
soners, or of their having counsel to advise or argue for them.

Soon after this charter went into operation, a luminary arose in
the law, whose fame will be as enduring witii us as the names of
Ljrttleton, Coke, or Mansfield. John Read was graduated ^t Har-
vard College in 1697, and prepared himself for the pulpit, aiid did
actually preach for some time ; but indulging himself in a little wit

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 60

and satire in his discourse, he was suspected of liberal, tolerant feel-
ings in his creed, and that would not do. From the pulpit, he went
to the bar, and here he effected a complete revolution, or rather
began a new era, in the history of American law. The long deed,
convejring real estate, which then covered a sheet of parchment, he
reduced to its present simple and intelligible form ; and the ease and
convenience of it was so apparent, that it was soon adopted. Read
was often in the legislature from Boston, and for several years in
the council. In either place, his opinions were law, for he was as
fearless as intellectual ; and spoke as he thought, in great honesty
of souL He lived to a good old age, and died s^ut twelve years
before the late venerable John Adams came to the bar, who in-
formed me, that he never saw Read ; but that his seniors, Gridley,
Kent, Putnam, Pynchon, and others, had treasured many anecdotes
of his wit, and many axioms of his law. Shirley, who was himself
a lawyer, thought him the greatest lawyer that ever lived, and con-
sulted him as an oracle. After his appearance on the stage, the pro-
fesEtton of the law shared the pubhck honours with the clergy ; and
by degrees, the spirit of the times gently crowded the clergy out of
civil appointments; and brought in those better acquainted with the [
practical things of life, and the ordinary business of men. New-
York, had not an opportunity to advance, in this half century, as
the other colonies. After the final settlement, by which the colony
was ceded to the English, the people were frequently annoyed by
bad governors ; this continued for several years after the commence-
ment of the 18th century. Lord Combury greatly retarded the
prospects of New-York, by his ignorance, avarice, and faithlessness
to hLs duties; but the statute book of the state, and the history of
the quarrel with Burnet on his chancery decisions, prove that there
were some good lawyers among them ; and probably, much other
learning. The clergjrmen of the Dutch Reformed Church were, in
general, well educated men ; but preaching in their own language,
their usefulness was in a great measure lost to the people from
New-England, who flocked in as emigrants to share so goodly a
heritage.

During the second half century, the literature of South Carolina
began to be respectable. The. professional men, before this time,
had been educated in Europe ; and now found the want of a library,
to keep pace, in some measure, with the improvements of the Eu-
ropean continent. In the year 1700, a provincial hbrary was esta-
bUshed in Charleston, by the liberality of the lords proprietors and
of the Rev. Thomas Bray. This introduced a love for reading, and
made an impression upon the minds and tastes of that people, which
has never been lost. In 1712, a free school was established, which

no LECTURES ON

WB3 an extensive grammarHschool, and where a good icMimdation for
classical education was laid. Several private academies were set
up, within a few years. England and the eastern colonies supplied
them with teachers, for many years. A printer e^ed at Charles-
ton, between the years 1720 and 1730. The first newspaper was
printed there in 1730. The professions were, at that time, filled with
men of learning, many of them from Europe. Mark Catesby, an
English naturalist, came to South Carolina in 1722, and resided four
years in the colony ; and was assiduous in promoting the knowledge
of botany and zoology. He had lived in Virginia seven years pre-
viously, engaged in the same pursuit; Sir Hans Sloan was his
patron. James Blair began to lay the foundation of William and
Mary College in 1091 ; but he was many years in getting it under
way, for he did not take upon himself the duties of president, imtil
1729, and then continued them until 1742. This good man labour-
ed hard in his duties, but many of the youth of Virginia still went
to England for an education. Dr. Blair was an able man. He
published a work, the year he died, in London, in four volumes oc-
tavo, " Our Saviour's divine sermon on the mount explained, and the
practice of it reconunended." It was, in that day, esteemed a work
of great merit.

As we have taken a sravey of our forefathers from their first
landing on these shores, particularly as men of letters and science^
and have given sketches of their characters as individuals, and have
made some general remarks on the communities as they grew up,
It will not be going out of the path I have prescribed to myself in
the lectures, to take a summary view of them at the close of the first
century of their existence. I have mentioned the little poem of the
good Bishop of Clo3me, which at the period it was published was
considered only a compliment from a pure and highly intellectual
ecclesiastick, to a race of people he was fond of praising — it is now
thought to have been prophetick — particularly the closing canto :

•

"Westward the star of empire takes its way;

The four first acts already past,
The fifth shall close the drama with the day —

Time's noblest ofispring is his last"

But it was only the sagacity of a great man, reasoning from cause
to effect ; and we will, for a moment, see how far he was justified in
makmg these predictions, as a sagacious observer of human nature,
deeply read in the history of man.

The century from the settlement of the northern provmce closed,
exhibiting a people extended along the sea coast, for more than a
thousand nules, of more or less maturity, some being of a more

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 71

recent date, and others a few years older than those of Massachu-
setts. Although not precisely alike in their manners and customs,
yet those provincials were so nearly alike as to be embraced under
general remarks, applicable to the most advanced portions of the
country. They were, at this period, comparatively at ease, for the
dread of extermination from the aborigines had entirely passed
away. They had fought the savages, and had driven them back to
remote forests and distant himting grounds; and though often
vexed and distressed by the hostile incursions of the Indians, still
they had no fears of being destroyed by them. The Indians had, in
ttie infancy of the colonies, come down upon them in their full
strength and best possible concert, and were then beaten and
broken, arid if not destroyed, were so fisur dispirited and enfeebled,
that nothing like regular warfare was afterwards carried on against
the most populous parts of the country. The people, it is true, were
often distressed at the complaints of the frontier settler, and were
fbequenily called 'OUt to avenge his wrongs, which was generally
done in such a manner as to keep the tribe of Indians who perpe-
trated them quiet for some time. The growth of this country was
indeed marked by wonders to the people themselves ; for the most
sanguine of the emigrants did not contemplate so rapid a progress
in then* growth and strength. They had, in this century, not only
fought Hie Indians for self-preservation, but after little more than
fifty years of their existence, assisted the mother country in an at-
tempt to wrest Canada from the hands of the French, which for-
tunately did not succeed ; for an intermixture of the French and
Ek^lish at that time would, in all probability, have had no good
effect on the nationality of the provincials; but as it was, the pri-
mitive character of tfie people had not essentially changed from that
of their fathers, when the century closed. They had wisely adopt-
ed new rules and regulations in the administration of justice, and
greatly expanded their views, and thoroughly changed their opi-
nions on many subjects, but still the same spirit remained, and die
siame hardihood of character was apparent. They had, before this
time, separated church from.«iate, and had found many blessings
flowing from this division. Men of distinction grew up in both de-
partments of these intellectual and moral pursuits, who laboured
hfrrd for the general good, and have left their deeds on record.

They had also established courts under their various charters,
and civil Justice took a new form. The primitive courts, though
believed by the people themselves, when first instituted, to be the
best method of getting at justice that could then be devised, had,
long before the close of the century, become rather (tensive to the
good sense of the people at large. ITiey found that there was some-

>■

79 LECTURES ON

thing very arbitrary in diacretion, that which the magistrates pos-
sessed of defining the crime and of fixing the punishment at the
same time ; and often making that criminal, which had never been
considered a crime, misdemeanour, or offence, in any written code
of laws that had ever been given to the world. It is amusing to
look back to thefar records now, when the judges and those they
condenmed have gone to a perfect tribunal, and to mark the course
of proceedings in those early days, when the magistracy, on the
suspicion of an offence against what they thought the decorum of
society, would often decree a more severe punishment than against
a crime of a felonious nature. The people were too shrewd to be
so governed forever ; and they found the courts of law, established
upon proper principles, with judges sworn to administer justice ac-
cording to fixed and settled laws, either the wisdom of many years
experience, or the written law of the statute book, were far better
than the arbitrary opinions and decisions of those esteemed even as
wise and good, who had no barrier against caprice, and who were
imperfect, because they were men. ^

At this period, the day of delusion had passed away, and the
mists of superstition were fast dispersing before the rays of reason
and the reign of common sense. This very delusion, however, was
made a mean, under Providence, of hastening on the age of philoso-
phical inquiry into the nature of man, and of the permissions of
Deity in his government of the world. The blood of the victims of
delusion, though they were few in number, was not without its use.
It did not cry fh)m the ground for vengeance, for it was shed by in-
fatuated honesty ; but ages of eloquence and reasoning could not
have done so much for the advancement of rational thinkmg as the
sacrifice of these few lives did. There was an image of error left in
the minds of the community which was held up against misguided
zeal, and a too ready desire to punish offences, which has had a most
salutary effect ever since. The shades of immplated innocence
haunted the severe in disposition, who are always inclined to super-
stition, and restrained them from attempting to influence publick
feeling, which they had a secret wish, no doubt, at all times to do.
The momentary folly of the few was the permanent security of the
whole.

At this period, publick schools had been long in operation in New-
England, and the rich were made to educate the poor, not only in
the common elements of learning, but in the higher walks of litera-
ture, when they aspired to it. The colleges that had been esta-
blished were fountains of useful knowledge, whose streams were
flowing in all directions. The young men educated in these col-
leges were, most of them, engaged, for several years after tbey had

•i

• '■"^.

■ i"

'*•

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 78

graduated, in the useful employment of teaching school in those
places required by law to maintain a grammar school, and almost
every town was sufficiently large to require one. Among other
duties, the clergy, too, assisted in preparing youths for college. The
influence of their labours had entered into every thing temporal, as
well as spiritual ; and being now confined, by the separation of the
government of the church from that of the state, to thefar own dis-
tinct duties, they had much more leisure to attend to improving
their own minds, and those of their parishioners, than ever ; and to
them, present generations are indebted for no inconsiderable portion
of the literature of that day. By this time, the law had become a
distinct profession, and several luminaries had arisen, who had
changed the modes of transacting the business of the courts, and
driven the race of pettifoggers, which generally abound in a new
country, (and did in this to a considerable extent,) at the first estab-
lishment of courts, into disgrace and neglect. Learned physicians
had grown up, who were not only devoted to the healing art, but
were making researches in the phenomena of nature, with great as-
siduity and success.

The press was well supported by the people, and held as one of
the great safeguards of the rights and interests of freemen. The
literati were fond of seeing themselves in print, and pamphlets and
tracts issued, to gratify the curiosity and taste of the people. At
this period, newspapers had been established, and were most valu-
able vehicles of information. They were, in general, edited with no
ordinary share of talent, and some of the first men in the country
were engaged directly or indirectly in their support. Political
rights were freely discussed in them, and their influence was felt in
the most remote settlement of the country. Not only the proceed-
ings of the British Parliament were communicated to the public
through their columns, with the news of the day ; but they were
made serviceable in giving the people a knowledge and taste for the
current English literature. Long extracts from authors of standard
▼alue were weekly difiiised by these papers. England was, during
this century, prolific in men of genius, and the great doctrines of
civil liberty were taught in their writings, which in this country had
a free circulation, if not in their own. Texts are often graced, and
sometimes amended, by their commentaries; it was so in this
country, in regard to every work on British liberty ; for here it was
read without prejudice, and scanned without fear« The mind of
man was awake to its true interests, in a country where there was
neither hierarchy, nor aristocracy, nor furious democracy, to disturb
the smooth and equal current of thinking and acting. They had

«lten quarrelled with governors, and complained of royal nedect|
6 10

74 LECTURES ON

and sometimes were gravely debating upon heresies and schisms ;
but these things were not more than sufficient to give force and ac-
tivity to their intellectual powers, and had no withering effect The
people, although prudent and saving, were not goaded by avarice,
or sunk in voluptuousness, or dissipated by trifling amusements ;
and these poUtical and rehgious excitements were necessary to give
proper tone to the mind.

Commerce had, during this century, extended its humanizing in-
fluence among the people, and trade was now doing what war pre-
viously had done — making them acquainted with each other's wants
and capacities. Their conunercial enterprise, considering their
means, was astonishing.*

Their fisheries and lumber trade, with their ship building, pro-
duced them a very considerable surplus over their importations
. from the mother country and the West India islands. They had
found that the bosom of the earth was rich in iron ore, the true gold
of a primitive people ; and they at this early period had established
foundries, or bloomeries, as the works for manufacturing iroh were
then called, which were in a prosperous condition for many years
afterwards. The clothing of the great mass of the people was from
their own flax and wool, wrought at their own firesides ; and if it
did not allow them to dress sumptuously, it made comfortable arti-
cles of wearing apparel. The forests were then abundant, and their
dwellings were warm and convenient. The purest of streams
watered their grounds, and their orchards produced in abundance,
so that there was but little use of ardent spirits.

Their military system was simple, yet perfect ; every man was
enrolled who could carry a musket, and all were accustomed to the
use of it. They obeyed the calls of their country with alacrity, and
fought as long as their services were necessary : braver troops never
stood on the battle field ; they were valiant without ferocity, and en-
dured the hardships of war without the hopes of plunder. Military
glory was with them a principle, not a passion. Military knowledge
was with them a habit, not a profession. The plough, the axe, the
saw, and the hammer, were the tools of their handy-craft—necessary
implements of their daily avocation ; and the musket, and the sword,
only implements of defence ; and they were expert in all. They
Bsked no wreath for their victories, they obtained no heraldric
honours for their numerous instances of valour ; a consciousness
of having discharged their duties as citizen soldiers, was all their re-
ward. At the time we are now describmg, they exhibited in their
character all that is now embraced in the hopes and desires of nft*

* See Appendix, note A

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 75

tions, for liberty, for moral dignity, and for the rights of man. Tliey
were sons of trial, of perseverance, and enterprise, who had turned
their afflictions and their exertions to advantage ; and made not only
their enjoyments and privileges, but even their misfortunes, a truly
valuable lesson for themselves and for their posterity.

LECTURE V.

See their aons

Before the btUwark of their dear rights drawn*

Proud in their simple dignity, as runs

The courser to the fidr stream—on their thrones

They sat, all kings, all peojJe — th^ were ire^

For they were stnnig and temperate^ and in tones

Deep and canorous, nature's melody,

They sung in <Hie full voice the hynm of liberty.

Percival.

From the beginning of the second century, reckoning from the
commencement of the settlement of the province of Massachusetts
Bay, there could not have been more than half a million of inhabit-
ants in the colonies. Douglass, as late as 1749, calculates that there
were three hundred and fifty-four thousand souls in New-England;
and it must be recollected, that it was the policy of the country to
magnify these numbers, to appear as formidable as possible to the
French in Canada, and their allies the Indians. This is very evi-
dent when Douglass says there were ninety thousand fighting men
m New-England at the time. This was too erroneous to deceive for
a moment. The growth of all the colonies had been much retarded
by sickness and wars. Nearly one half the pilgrims died the first
three months after their landing. A wasting sickness came among
the settlers of the province of Massachusetts Bay. Virginia had her
share of sickness and the disasters of war. In 1622, three hundred
and forty-seven of the Virginia colonists were massacred by the In-
dians in one day, and a famine and pestilence ensued. The other
colonies were sickly : in fact, all new settlements are so ; numerous
causes conspire to make them unhealthy. The population of the
colonies was very much overrated at the commencement of the re-
volutionary war. Burke and Chatham state the population to have

n LECTURES ON

been three millions; but Franklin, who had better means of judging,
puts the population at two ; and this was too high for the free white
population. The expeditions to take Canada, and the Indian wars,
had proved fatal to the young men engaged in defending their coun*
try. They were just about settling in life : but after all, this may
not have been so great an evil as it was then thought to have been.
If the Indians had not been constantly harrassing the settlers on
the frontiers, the people would have settled extensively in this new
country, and the advantage of schools, churches, and the good habits
of a dense population, would have been lost Their march of im-
provement was slow, but the elements of their growth were pure;
and if they gained slowly, they held their gains securely. The early
settlers, who thought this a place of sojourning, not a home, were
dead. A race had come up who knew no other country, except in
sympathy with the feelings of their fathers, and who were content
with their birth place. They had been, as they conceived, neglected
and ill-treated in every change of affairs in the mother country.
They had suffered from the bigotry and tyranny of the house of
Stuart, and had been almost forgotten during the continuance of
the Commonwealth. The colonies had, among themselves, no com-
mon bond of union, nor concert in action. Virginia had harboured
) the royalists in the days of Cromwell, and New-England the regi-
) cides at the restoration of royalty. At the restoration, Charles IL
was too much engaged in his pleasures to look after these colonies,
from whence he did not expect to receive any money to support his
love of indulgence. When the Stuarts were driven from the
throne, the house of Orange was too busy in continental wars to
think any more of us than as growing auxiliaries in future contests
with Fnuice. When the house of Brunswick came to the throne,
the policy of fighting France in this country was stDl pursued, and
in fact become necessary; for France had a stupendous line of forti-
fications from Cape Breton to the Mississippi. These must be con-
quered at all hazards, and at any expense. The colonies were loyal
from principle and from habit ; but their hearts were not so warm
for their mother country as they once had been. The seeds of the
revolution were scattered about the land at every act of unkindness
or hardship they had felt from England. Some of her patriots and
philosophers had taken a deep interest in the growth of the western
. world; and unquestionably looked forward when injured virtue
would find here a safe retreat. Berkley, Milton, Sidney, and Hollis,
saw sufficient promise in the New World to induce them to believe
that we should soon become an important people.

With a little bickering about some disputed points, the colonies
went on as usual in the course of knowledge and civilization. If

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 77

Uiey were sometimes a little tuifoulent, no fears of permanent dilB- ^
Gulties were entertained by the British nation. The nation at large -.
knew but little about us ; and in truth they have always been found \
diiU of comprehension in relation to this country. They knew
^hing of the '^ fine spirits touch'd to fine issues" who had grown
up here. They did not believe that a handful of people who had '■
been romantick and silly enough to leave the delights of polished so-
ciety, could have been the progenitors of such a race of men as then
lived in this country. They could not believe that we had enlarged
the great lessons of freedom, and at the same time had practised on
them.

Among those to whom the country is mnch indebted for an al-
tanpt at diffusing knowledge, was Thomas Prince, the chronologist
He was graduated at Harvard College, in 1707. He studied divinity,
and in 1709 conunenced his travels in Europe, and did not return
until 1717. His manners were formed in the best society, and his
information was of the most extensive range. He was said to be
the most learned man of his time, excepting Dr. Cotton Mather; and
even Mather's eulogists would acknowledge that Prince had more
common sense than their Magnus Apollo, and had in all respects a
better balanced mind. The writings of Prince are numerous and
valuable. He published an account of the first appearance of the '
Aurora borealis ; a great many sermons, obituary notices, and works
on occasional subjects ; but his great work is what he called a Chro-
nological History of New-fkigland. He began at the creation of
the world, and he made a work of immense research and learning,
but it is to be regretted that he did not bring it down to a later period.
This would probably have been effected if he had not felt mortified
that his great labours were not more highly appreciated at the time.
The present age, however, has honoured Prince with a new editicm
of the '' chronological history ;" and the work is examined with great
interest. His was a common fate then. The popular productions
have gone down to oblivion, or many of them, while this work is
considered among the most valuable of the kind. This chrcmology
was commenced early in life, and finished late. The whole of it
was not published until 1736.

Those distinguished in political and civil life had hitherto been
found among those learned in all the wisdom of the schools; but at
the commencement of this half century, a youth appeared in the
common walks of life, who had never visited the academick shades,
nor gone up to the fountains of learning, who was destined to pro-
duce almost a new era of thinking and reasoning in the moral world.
This man was Benjamin Franklin. He was bom in Boston, in 1706^
and began his publick course when quite a boy. Being connected
G2

78 LECTURES ON

with a newspaper, he tried his juvenile hand at commentaries and
criticisms on the current topics of the day, and soon found that this
great world was not so wisely governed as it was thought to be.
At midnight he wrote papers and threw the manuscript mto his
brother's office, who often published them, supposing them to have
come from very hi^ authority. Flattered by his success, he de-
termined to become a mender and director of the great world him-
self; and his destiny was in accordance with his determination. In
looking about him, he found that he had touched the hallowed ves-
sels of the Lord with too bold a hand, and that tlie thrift he bent
his mind to, would not so readily be found in New-England aselse^
where, after this offence. He wandered to Pennsylvania, and from
thence found his way to England, and back to Philadelphia. In
that city he matured his plans, and lived to see them all successfuL
Shrewd, cautious, enterprising, and watchful of the signs of the
times, with a business talent, and great industry, he had the advan-
tage of most men. Educated as he was, he could readily associate
with all classes of society, and understood them all perfectly. He
knew the wants, wishes, habits, and powers of every grade of life,
from the labourer in the log cabin, anxious to secure " the sustaining
crust of bread" for his helpless children, to the splendid wretchedness
of the palaces of princes, and to the thorny pillow of the ambitious
statesman. He conversed upon all the affairs of life in a more practical
manner than Socrates ever did with the Athenians; and at the same
time he carried on his plans for his country with the ability of Peri-
eles, and without one particle of that ancient statesman's profusion.
The gods permitted him to serve the public for a very long life. He
sometimes wrote for the humblest capacities, as in Poor Richard's
Sayings, and at other times, taught the philosophers of Europe to
bring the fire from the heavens and confine it in harmless jars of
glass. He examined minds as one would take a survey of a field,
and could at once teU what was the natural soil, and what had been
the culture of it. It could not be said of him, that he was a great
man in a small village, for he belonged to his country, and acted
for mankind. He was an economist in all things ; he would use
the lightning's flash he had stolen from the heavens to assist him in
picking up a pin in the street ; not from avarice, although he knew
the worth of property, but to set an example to others. He not only
wished, like the good king of France, that every one might have a
fowl in his pot for dinner, but Franklin added to the same hearty
wish, the means of procuring it in an honest way.

Among the self-taught men of that age was David Mason, a fol-
lower of Franklin, and perhaps his pupil. It is certain they
held a correspondence upon the subject of electricity; he was the

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 79

first who erected lightning rods in New-England, and also the first
who delivered lectures on natural philosophy as connected with
dectricity. His experiments excited the wonder of some of the
good people of Massachusetts, and they required the opinion of a
number of the clergy upon the morality and propriety of attendmg
his lectures, intimating something more than a suspicion that such
things must have been performed by the " black artP The clergy,
as they have generally been, were on the side of science; and Ae
lectures went on unmolested, but with some suspicions still lingering
among the ignorant. In the war of 1755, Mason was an ofilcer in
the corps of engineers, and was distinguished for bravery and science.
When the American revolution opened, he was foremost among the
patriots ; and his knowledge of practical gunnery, and of fortificatioHi
was of incalculable service to the army. Chemistry then was but
little known in this country, but he was acquainted with the science
as then understood in Europe ; and was csJled upon by the makers
of gun powder and cannon to assist them in the art He was field-
officer, teacher of tacticks, and superintendant of arsenals during the
whole war ; such a man as Colonel Mason was wanted every where.
The character of this distinguished officer should find a place in his
country's list of heroes ; it is only as a man of intellect and science
we name him.

Amidst the attentions of our people to all theological speculations,
the exact sciences were not neglected. They had received a great
4ieal of attention ever since the first settlement of the country. Sher-
man, we have already mentioned, was followed by Danforth, who
was also distinguished in this branch of science : in 1644, he pub-
lished an almanack, and a calculation of the orbits of comets. He
has been distinguished as one of the most sentimental preachers of
his time, and his eloquence was of the first order. He died in 1674, at
the age of forty-eight. Who filled up the space as an almanack
maker from his time to that of Daniel Travis, I have not as yet dis-~
covered. The earliest number of the series of almanacks I have
yet seen of Travis' is one of 1721, which I have now in my posses-
sion ; and on comparing it with the almanacks of 1827, 1 have no
hesitation in saying that it is no ways inferiour to the latter.

In 1731, Nathaniel Ames, who then styled himself " Student la
Physic and Astronomy," published an almanack, which was con-
tinued until his death, in 1765. It was a most useful book, filled
with all the necessary astronomical calculations for the year, and
with patriotic remarks and moral reflections. In one of his numbers,
I think that of 1745, he indulges in a prophecy of the future glories
of his country. Nothing can exceed the accuracy of his calculations
in the records of human anticipation. Perhaps he had shown amoni;

t l^a^^'t*^

80 LECTURES ON

the common people a little quackery in displaying his kubwledge,
but this was hannless, for the most enlightened of his friends es-
teemed him as a sagacious and valuable man ; and one who was
consulted in domestick and political arrangements, by all around him.
After the speech of Lord Chatham on the repeal of the Stamp Act,
Ames got up a subscription to erect him a statue. It exhibited the
gratitude of the good yeomanry of Dedham to the eloquent premier,
but did not show any great advancement in the art of sculpture.
Nathaniel Ames was the father of Fisher Ames, whose name and
writings we shall have occasion to mention in another lecture.

Almanacks were more connected with literature, and particularly
with history, in that day, than at the present time ; for it was the
general practice of learned men to keep an almanack in which to
record all the passing events on blank leaves, or in marginal notes,
i have one of these in my possession which belonged to Samuel
Sewall, chief-justice of Massachusetts, in 1718, filled from the begin-
ning to the end with notes upon current affairs, domestick, pub*
lick, or national, both in English and Latin. This same chief justice
Sewall was himself a writer of distinction at that time, and had be-
fore, in 1600, published '^ answers to inquiries respecting America;"
a work of great merit for its accuracy in its details. No man could
ihmk of leaving the world at that period, without leaving something
on some subject, in divinity, which was in after ages to be the basis
of his fame ; but which, most probably, these after ages will not
give themselves much trouble about. Judge Sewall, a learned and
great man in his profession, wrote "proposal touching the accom-
plishment of prophecies ;" "phcenomina quaedam Apocalyptica, or
a description of the new heavens and new earth."

'While mathematicks and theology were in a prosperous state, his-
tory was not neglected. William Douglass, M. D., a physician in
Boston, was one of the number who were publishing accounts of
this country. He was noticed for the freedom of his thoughts and
remarks. Every one acknowledged that he was learned ; but his
sarcasms made him many enemies. He was indefatigable in col-
lecting materials for a history of the colonies ; and he published what
he called " a summary," or an historical account of the British settle-
ments in 1749 and 1763. Honest Elliot says, that Douglass wrote
in a slovenly style ; but he had caught something of the prejudice
which tradition had brought down to his own tune. Douglass had,
it is seen by his writings, no great regard for the strict doctrines of
the Mathers, or perhaps for ai\y religious prmciples taught at that
time. The weight of private character in one's own neighbourhood
enters very fully into his public fame, and it is impossible to separate
fikem entirely even at a distance ; but as nearly a century has elapsed

AMERICAN LITERATVRB. 81

Btnce these iittptessions were made upon the minds of the good peo-
ple of Boston, it may be proper now for ns to give them up, and
look at his productions alone. His learning was not confined to one
branch of iiibrmation. He was a botanist, more learned than his pre-
decessors, and advocated the doctrine, at that early period, on which
Darwin founded, half a century afterwards, his splendid poem, ''The
Loves of the Plants." Douglass turned his attention to statisticks, and
I>olitical economy, before the latter science had received a name ;
and this information is scattered through his historical works ; but
it did not suit the taste of the times as well as wonderful events and
miraculous providences. He was the decided enemy of Cotton Ma-
ther, and they were at daggers-drawn while Mather was living, and
Douglass did not spare the fame of his enemy when he was dead.

The natural history of New-England, and her botanical treasurea,
had attracted the attention of Paul Dudley, F. R. S., chief justice of
Massachusetts, who wrote some papers upon these subjects, which
were published in the philosophical transactions of the Royal So-
ciety, London, 1720 and 1T21, which are of a high order of writing,
and show great observation and acuteness. Douglass pursued his
inquuries perhaps farther than his neighbour Dudley, the subject
being more intimately connected with his professional pursuits.
The historians of this country have been more indebted to Douglass
than they have been willing to allow. The most enlightened phy-
sicians acknowledge that he wrote upon professional subjects with
great talent and information. Among his papers on medical subjects
is a dissertation on the " Cynanche Maligna," which prevailed in
Boston in the year 1736 ; and in that and subsequent years swept
off a great many of the children, and some full grown persons.
Mathematicians, too, consider Douglass as in the front rank of their
host ; and as proofs of the correctness of these opinions they refer
to the almanack he published in 1733-4, styled the "Mercurius No-
vanglicanus, by William Nadir, S. X. Q." This work, besides all
the astronomical calculations common in such a publication, con-
tsdns a catalogue of historical events in chronological order, which
has saved his successors, in writing history, a great many laborious
hours. It is unsafe to trust to the opinions which Douglass gave of
his contemporaries, for he was often goaded to bitter resentments
against those who attempted to diminish his influence and tarnish
his fame for want of conformity to the creeds of the day. His wri-
tings do not directly show either infidelity or absolute laxity of
morals, both of which he was charged with; and, if tradition may
be relied on, with justice. In matters of a general nature, or of a
professional cast, where his enmities did not enter, he is the best
authority of the times in which he wrote, notwithstanding all ^

>",

» LECTURES ON

imputations which have been cast on his fame. I have been more
particular in this notice of Douglass, because he has been so often
plundered and so long neglected ; leaving the great Author of his
being to judge of his morals and religion.

One branch of metaphysicks, that which treats of superiour beings,
and of the abstract nature and the attributes of God, had long been
a study with- the divines of every denomination in this country;
but that part of the science which analyzes the human mind, and
treats of its capacities, affections, passions, and reasoning powers,
had not been studied in this, nor in any other country, until the great
metaphysician, John Locke, arose in England, who brought the ener-
gies of the most comprehensive power to bear upon the philosophy
of the mind ; and gave new views to the enlightened upon this sub-
ject Some of the distinguished men in America, delighted with
this study, so congeniol to then- habits of uivestigation of spiritual
essences, pursued the path of Locke with great ability and success.
Apiong these was Jonathan Edwards, who was a native of Connec-
ticut, and was bom about the year 1702, and was graduated at Yale
College, 1720. He was for some time settled in Northampton, in
Massachusetts, afterwards at Stockbridge, in the same common-
wealth ; and from this latter place was removed to Princeton, New-
Jersey, as president of that college, to succeed President Burr; but
President Edwards did not live long to serve his fellow men in that
conspicuous situation. The great work of President Edwards is
entitled " The Freedom of the Will." This raised his reputation to
an equality with the first metaphysicians of his age in this country
and in Europe. This work was for many years read as a classick
in metaphysicks in several of our colleges. The style in many parts
of this work is obscure and involved ; and it is thought, by some
teachers, too abstruse for young men in that science ; and in fact it is
now almost entirely superseded by Stewart, Locke, Reed, Brown,
and others. It requires the grasp of a vigorous and mature mind
to master such a work as Edwards on the Will, without previous
tndning in the more simple elements of the science. The freedom
of the will is a subject of inquiry which commenced with the first
man, and will end only with the last ; and will never be thoroughly
explained by any one ; but most certainly it is no common mind
that can produce any thing worthy of notice on such a mysterious
subject

President Edwards wrote other treatises ; one on " the history of
redemption ;" " a defence of the doctrine of original sin ;" and also
'' a treatise on the affections," a work much read by all classes of
christians of the present day ; and another upon the " nature of vir^
tue ;" in the whole, eight volumes. When Edwards wrote, it was

AMESRIOAN LITERATURE. 88

thought that ahetrose subjects were not susceptible of embeUishment ;
but Stewart has convinced the world that there is no subject so
knotty and knarled which the skill of a master cannot adorn and
polish with the charms of imagination. — Poetry is now the handmaid
of philosophy.

President Edwards had a son, Jonathan Edwards, D. D., who was
president of Schenectady College, and distinguished himself as a
writer upon metaphysicks. He wrote an answer to Dr. Chauncey's
work, '' Salvation for all men," and likewise to Dr. Samuel West's
essays upon liberty and necessity, and many think he was superior
to lids father ; certainly, his writings are more lucid than his fa-
ther's ; but few men ever equalled the author of the Freedom of the
Will in strength and depth.

Since the invention of printing, the world has been flooded with
scholastick and controversial divinity; which has been read for
a while, and then dropped into oblivion, without the regrets of any
one. Then some new subject, in the same field, would be started and
pursued with great animation, for a while, and then take the fate of
the preceding one. We may talk, with a smUe, of the dulness of
the " convent's shade," and ridicule tomes written upon monosylla-
bles. It is easy to condemn, with a word, what we have not seen,
and do not understand ; but no one, well acquainted with the works
of these laborious metaphysicians, and wranglers upon every thing
of matter and mind, will hesitate, notwithstanding all their quaint-
ness, far-fetched illustrations, and singular inductions, to ascribe to
them the merit of laying the foundations of modem knowledge.
There is now to be found, in their moth-eaten pages, wit, satire, argu-
ment, and, sometimes, taste, sentiment, and even elegance, with
worlds of learning. There are other considerations, which should
make this class of men dear to us, for, in all their religious discus-
sions, some glorious scintillations of thought, upon civil and politi-
cal rights, were struck out, and were caught by, and illumed other
minds, engaged in other pursuits.

About the year 1763, a question respecting the introdyction of
episcopal bishops in the American colonies, was agitated in this
country, which brought out some of the first literary characters
then in it. The publications on this controversy were much read
at the time, and infused into the people a love of attending to every
thing relating to their rights in religious and political matters. The
Rev. East Apthorp, rector of the episcopal church in Cambridge^
near Boston, was the champion for the introduction of the bishops ;
he was seconded in this, by several able and conscientious men ;
Dr. Samuel Seabury, afterwards the first bishop of Connecticut ;
Dr. Samuel Johnson, and others, gentlemen known for their learning

84 LECTURES ON

and piety. The opposition to this doctrine consisted of the most
powerful array of talents which ever appeared on any question, in
this country, except that of independence. Dr. Chauncey, of Bos-
ton, a great scholar and divine, was among this number ; he was
then in the full maturity of his faculties ; he wrote with erudition,
firmness, and decision ; and all were delighted with his display of
learning and patriotism. He was then nearly sixty years of age.
Dr. Jonathan Mayhew, of Boston, engaged in this controversy.
He was the ablest metaphysical gladiator of the age in which he
lived. He was then in the prime of manhood, possessing a fearless-
ness, and a hardihood of character, which nothing but death could
subdue ; rich in the learning of his day, and ready, at any moment,
to take his part in any thing which would benefit his country. He
saw the Apocalypse of liberty, and felt its insphration. The signs
of the times were full of moment and importance. He was in
communion with the bold spirits on the other side of the water,
Lardn^, Benson, Hollis, Kippis, and others. In the pride of his
strength, he came down upon ecclesiastical corruptions, and the
tyminy of religious establishments : with the zeal of a reformer,
he tore the tiara and broke the crosier for interfering with civil mat-
ters. His temper was warm, and, like other reformers, he often
went farther than he intended, but no one could charge him with
the slightest degree of hypocrisy. He dared to think for himself,
and openly to avow his thoughts on every subject relating to reli-
gion or civil policy. He discovered no regard for the divine rights
of kings ; and in a sermon preached on the 31st day of January, the
anniversary of the death of Charles I., he spake more freely than
any one had ventured to speak before, upon the character of the
monarch who had been styled the royal martyr. There seemed
not the slightest disposition in his mind to canonize him. Mayhew
died at the age of forty-six, with a nervoui^ fever, brought on by
intense application to his studies and parochial duties. His heart
was a noble and fearless one, as ever palpitated in the bosom of
man, and his grave was wet by the tears of patriots. Religious
freedom is connected with civil in this and other countries, and at
all times. In the memoirs of Thomas Hollis, there is a fine minia-
ture likeness of Dr. Mayhew, with a short notice of him as a chris-
tian and patriot ; and in the library of Harvard university, a portrait
from the pencil of Smibert. Dr. Mayhew published voluminously
upon controversial divinity ; and his works are very considerably
read by the scholars of our time, who are desirous of estimating the .
talents of those who are gone, and to whom we are indebted for the
light they left us. After all, the fears these good men entertained

AMERICAN LTTERATURR 85

of English bishops were probably imaginary; what hanf have the
catholick bishops done since 7

In this third half century, there were several colleges founded in this ^
country. The first of these was Nassau Hall, or the college of New-
Jersey. This institution was founded in 1746, at Elizabethtown ; from
this place it was removed to Newark, in 1747, and in 1757 to Prince-
ton, where it now is. It was then under the superintendance of Aaron
Burr, who was a graduate of Yale College, in the class of 173S.
To have found such a man was a most auspicious beginning, for he
was learned, and indefatigable in his duties, and fulfilled them from
inclination as well as from principle. Such a man does much by
example, as well as by precept, to make his pupils scholars and
christians. He was considered as an eloquent man, and, it is said,
that many of the preachers who came from that college, kept his
manner alive for a series of years after the good man's death.
President Burr was succeeded by his father-in-law, Jonathan Ed-
wards, of whom we have fiq[)oken in this lecture, and under his care
the college continued to flourish, and sent forth well-informed young
men for church and state.

Coliunbia College, in the city of New-York, was founded in 1754,
and was then called King's College. The change of name was made
at the revolution. This institution was founded by several pious,
learned, and enterprising gentlemen at New-York, consisting of
Lieut. Governor De Lancy, Dr. Barclay, Drs. Johnson, of Connec-
ticut, and Chandler, of New-Jersey, Joseph Murray, the attorney
general of the province, and most of the literati of the state, who lent
a helping hand to the good work. It requires a great deal of nursing
to build up an institution of learning. Dr. Samuel Johnson, re-
nowned at that time and since in the republick of letters, was the
first president, and under his care the college grew into repute, and
has since that period had the honour of producing some of our first-
rate statesmen and orators, and men of letters. Dr. Johnson was aa
author, and wrote a treatise upon logick, and one upon ethicks, which
were issued from the press of Dr. Franklin, then residing at Phila-
delphia, 1752. Dr. Johnson afterwards published a Hebrew gram-
mar, which was in use in some of the colleges until it was superse-
ded by the Hebrew grammar of the learned Dr. John Smith, pro-
fessor of the languages at Dartmouth College.

In 1764, a college was founded in Rhode-Island ; the Rev. James
Manning, of New-Jersey, had the honour of being the prime mover
in this enterprise, and was elected the first president of this college.
Samuel Elam, Esq., was one of its principal benefactors in its in-
&ncy, but the college now bears the name of its present patron,
H

86 LECTURES ON

Nicholas Brown, Esq., of Providence. It is at this moment mider
happy auspices.

Dartmouth college was incorporated in 1762. It is situated in
the town of Hanover, in the state of New-Hampshire. This col-
lege was founded by Dr. Eleazer Wheelock, a man of great benevo-
lence and learning. A school had been established at Stockbridge,
in Massachusetts, by the Rev. John Sergeant, about the year 1743.
This seminary was commenced for the benefit of the Stockbridge
tribe of Indians ; but he had hardly begun this pious labour, when
he was removed from it by death. Dr. Wheelock attempted to re-
vive this school, and, for this purpose, solicited donations in Europe
and America. He opened it at Lebanon, and called it Moore's
academy. Before this time, Dr. Wheelock had contemplated found-
ing a college somewhere on Connecticut river, and the Earl of
Dartmouth had promised his assistance to the undertaking. Hano-
ver was fixed upon as the most suitable place for its site. Moore's
school was removed there also, but was not connected with the col-
lege. Besides the Earl of Dartmouth, there were several other
benefactors. King George III., the Countess of Huntingdon, and
others of eminence, in England ; and John Adams, Dr. Franklin,
John Phillips, and Samuel Phillips, with others, of this country,
lent a helping hand to the establishment of this seminary. Dr.
Wheelock was going on prosperously, when the revolutionary war
broke out. The students necessarily became soldiers, and the build-
ing a garrison. The scholars read the classicks with arms in their
hands, and, to use an expression of the second president, '^ Mars
was made the protector of Mercury." After the war was over,
this institution flourished, and has sent forth her proportion of emi-
nent men, in every age of her struggles, of which she has had her
share. Out of her history has grown one of the most important
decisions, in fixing the stability of property and the rights of char-
tiers, that is to be found on the records of our federal judiciary.
■ It is greatly to the honour of our country, that, on every occa-
sion that has required talents of any sort, she has readily produced
them, whether the subject presented was literary, scientific, or poli-
tical. We have already spoken of our mathematicians, and of their
labours in various ways ; but in no instance was their merits more
conspicuous, or their knowledge so thoroughly tested, as when the
planet Venus made a transit over the disk of the sun in 1761. Great
preparations were made in England and France, as well as in this
country, to seek the best places on the globe for observations at the
time. In this country, some of our first minds were deeply engaged
in making the most minute and accurate notices of this event
Ewing, Rittenhouse, Smith, Williamson, West, and Winthrop, and

AltfERICAN LITERATURR 87

many others, published accounts of this phenomenon ; and the phi-
losophers of Europe have acknowledged, that those of America
were the most accurate of all that were published. These men were
not mere mathematicians, but were also distinguished for their
knowledge of letters. The Rev. John Ewing, D. D., a native
of Maryland, bom in 1732, and graduated at New-York College, in
1755. He was settled as a minister in Philadelphia, and was chosen
provost of the university of Pennsylvania in 1777, and lived to a
good old age. John Blair Linn, D. D., his colleague, wrote the obi-
tuary of his Venerable friend m a style of surpassing elegance. Of
Rittenhouse, it is difficult to speak without seeming exaggeration.
He was a self-taught man ; bom in Pennsylvania in 1752, he Wfui a
mathematician from his cradle. He perfected himself in the art of
clock-making by his own ingenuity. Newton's pruicipia was mas-
tered by him without any assistance. From that he went to fux"
ions, and, for awhile, thought himself the original inventor. It is
trae, he was in a good degree a genuine inventor, but not an origi-
nal one. It is often the fate of uneducated geniuses, to spend much
time on subjects, the discovery of which was unknown to them, but
with which former ages have been familiar. He invented an orrery,
as he called his planetarimn, which far exceeded, in accuracy and
extent, all that had been known before. After his publication of his
observations on the transit of Venus, he became extensively known
in Europe as well as in this country, and loaded with academic ho-
nours — L. L. D., F. R. S., &c., were added to his name. He was
president of the philosophical society of Philadelphia. Dr. Rudi
wrote his obituary notice, and others strove to make his fame bear
some proportion to his merit. Barlow, in his Vision of Columbus,
speaks of him among the great men that the hero saw in "coming
time," who were to bless their country by the power of their under«
standing.

" Thus heard the hero— while his rtmng -view
Traced other crowds that liberal arts pursue ;
When thus the Seraph — ^Lo, a &.vourite hand,
The torch of science flaming in their hand !
Through nature's range their ardent soul inspire^
Or wake to life the canvass and the lyre.
Fixt in sublimest thought, behold them rise^
Superiour worlds unfolding to their eyes ;
Heav'n, in their view, unveils the eternal plan,
And gives new guidance to the paths of man.

See the sage Rittenhouse, with ardent eye,
lift the long tube and jMorcethe stany diy;

*■ *

88 LECTURES ON

Cletr in his view the (niding flystems loD,

And broader splendours gild the central pole.

He marks what laws the eccentrick wanderers bind,

Copies creation in his forming mind,

And bids, beneath lus hand, in semblance rise,

With mimick orbs, the labours of the skies ;

There wondering crowds with raptured eye behold

The spangled heavens their mystick maze unfold ;

While each glad sage his splendid hall shall graces

With all the spheres that cleave the ethereal space.''

Benjamin West, another eminent mathematician, was also a self*
taught philosopher. He was for sometime a professor of mathema-
ticks and natural philosophy in Providence college, and very much
distinguished in his branches. Pike, the author of the Ajithmeticky
which most of us have dozed, plodded, or fretted over, informed me,
that West was one of the most extraordinary men in the science of
numbers he hadj ever met with. This talent for mathematical in-
quiries is almost as common in our country as the inventive capa-
city. There is scarcely a village which does not contain some
gifted man in thai vxiy, I have known a malt-seller, and a school
master in an obscure country town, teaching at six dollars per
month, who were among the b^ instructors in mathematicks that I
ever knew : and at the present time the island of Nantucket is dis-
tinguished for mathematicks. The Folgers have, for more than a
century through successive generations, watched the phenomena of
the heavens, and given the result of their observations to the publick.

Professor Winthrop, of Harvard College, probably made the
highest exertions to notice the transit of Venus, of any American.
In 1761, he sailed to St. Johns, in Newfoundland, for tliat purpose,
and on the sixth day of June of that year, had a fine clear morning
to make his observations. Winthrop was an accomplished scholar,
in most branches of learning, and wrote Latin with great facility and
in great purity. He published treatises on comets, earthquakes,
&c. was deeply read in divinity, and was a very pious man. He
said of revelation, perhaps, what no mathematician ever said before
— " the light thrown upon the doctrine of a future state, (meaning
by revelation,) amounts with me to demonstration." It has been
too often supposed that philosophy and deep research were inimical
to religion; but this has seldom been the case, certainly not in our
country ; for the wise and the leamedj have seen and felt the ne«
cessity of a future state, to satisfy their longings after that know-
ledge which they believed existed, and yet was unfathomable by the
intellect of man, m his present state of exigence. The weak fol-
lowers of some human creed^ have too often taken adenial of iti

AMERICAN U'TORATURE. B9

truth and efficacy, for a disbelief in ^e great doctrines of revela-
tion. The higher the views, the more penetrating the ken ; and the
greater the ability to examine, the more forcibly does man feel hii
nature, atid the more ardent are his aspirations that it may be pu*
rified and elevated*

LECTURE VI.

God gave to man power to feel, to think, to will, and to act ; and made hiiii
responsible for this prerogative ; whoever, then, has the gift of tongues^ let
him use it ; whoever holds the pen of a ready writer, let him dip it in the ink-
horn ; or whoever has a sword, let him gird it on, for the crisis demands our
highest efforts, both physical and mental. The soul has its nerves as well as
the body, and both must be put in ton^ for service. ■

Old Strmon,

The next epoch, that ciaJled forth the talents of our countrymen, .
viras the attempt of the British ministry to tax the colonies without "
their consent. Not content with the monopoly of the trade of the
colonies, they wished to draw a revenue from them, by imposing
taxes in the form of duties on certain articles of common consump-
tion. This was at first resisted by petitions, remonstrances, and ar-
guments from every portion of the country. They did not regard
as a grevious matter the duties imposed : it was the declaration
which accompanied this taxation which was so offensive, of theii:
right to tax the colonies, at all times, and in all cases whatsoever.
The manner of enforcing these acts of Parliament was equally of-
fensive. The custom-houses, which had been regulated with the
usual lenity of collecting all colonial duties, were instructed to use all
sorts of severity to bring the people at once to their allegiance and
obedience. Informers and spies were scattered through the coun-
try, and behaved with all the insolence of petty tyrants ; still their
fears of the resentments of a people, never known for timidity, in-
duced them to wish to have the appearance of acting legally, if un-
kindly. To do this, they applied to the courts for writs of assist-
ance. The courts hesitated: this process had never been known
before in the colonies. The writ was considered in the nature of a
ctar-ehambfr proceeding, and against the great principles of Migna
H2 12

» LECTURES ON

ChartcL The custom-house petitioners obtained a rule on those in-
terested to show cause why the petition should not be granted.
Gridley was attorney-general, and of course, was bound by the
duties of his office, to appear for the officers of his Majesty's cus-
toms. Otis was employed on the side of the merchants. This was
in 1761. The cause of the petitioners was ably argued by Gridley :
he brought all his learning into the cause, which was considerable,
and the whole weight of his character, which was greater with the
court. Otis made a most eloquent and learned answer, the fame of
which is not lost by the lapse of years. The court were in doubt,
and took time for advisement; and the subject has never been settled
to this day, in that or in any other court. This was the speech
which John Adams has told us, " breathed into the nation the breath
of life?'^ I am not engaging in a political discussion at this time,
but this statement is made to show the causes of the development
of talent in this country. Immediately after this, the papers waxed
warm upon this subject, and others connected with it, and the press
teemed with pamphlets, which discovered no small degree of poli-
tical information. Otis was not content with employing his elo-
quence alone, but he took up his pen also in defence of our rights ;
and if his pen was not equal to his tongue, it was sufficiently pointed
and powerful to arouse his countrymen, and to excite the vengeance
of those he called her oppressors. Otis affixed his name boldly to
whatever he wrote ; before this time, most political writings had
come to the world anonymously. Others followed the example
which Otis had set them, and wrote over their own names, when it
was thought they could do more good by this course, than by taking
an assumed name. He was not only a patriot, but, what is more
to my immediate purpose, he was a splendid scholar, and wrote
several elementary works, and works of taste. His talents, his mis-
fortunes, his death, are so familiar to us all, that I will not stop to
recount them.

Samuel Adams was the contemporary of Otis, born only three
years before him, but formed altogether on a different model.
The energy of Adams was equal to that of Otis, but it was miited to
sanctity, as Otis's was to passion. Adams gained by a sage demean-
our, while Otis lost by openness of manner and freedom of remark.
They were both patriots, and brave to martyrdom; but while Otis
rushed upon his enemies in a whirlwind, trusting to his powers and
to his impetuosity for success, Adams approached with caution, and
struck with guarded certainty.

Thomas Hutchinson, a native of the town of Boston, was at this
period a secret opposer of these patriots ; with declarations of love
for his native country, he was holding a correspondence with the

AMERICAN UTERATUREL 01

ministry, and encouraging them to persevere in their strong mea-
sures. He had been an idol of the people, and they were unwilling
to give him up at once. Feeling himself well fixed in the confi-
dence of men in power, he threw off the mask, and boldly met his
accusers. He was a man of learning and abilities, and possessed a
Tery great aptitude for all kinds of public business, and was indus-
trious in all its details. The history of the country was familiar to
liim, for he had made it a particular study, and was for many years
emplojring his leisure hours in writing the history of the province
of Massachusetts Bay. The storm burst upon his head when he was
Lieutenant Grovemor, and his house was demolished by the infuriated
populace: but he was not easily daunted. The ministry came to his
support, and raised him to the office of chief magistrate. His cor-
respondence with the government in England, which the patriots
considered as Aill of treachery to the colonies, was, by some adroit-
ness or accident, obtained, and it was impossible for any one to with-
stand the effect. The populace, the legislature, the statesmen, old and
young, brought their indignation to bear upon him, and he left our
shores for England, where his services were forgotten ; and neglect
and a broken heart awaited him. He was unquestionably the most
efficient man the royal cause could boast of in this country, at that
period. For his history, we are much indebted to him. This will
live, when his political course will only be remembered as a common
occurrence.

The late President Adams was another of the distinguished
writers, in the days preceding the revolution. He was ardent in the
cause of liberty, but he never " run with bare-headed debasement
the scrub race of popularity." He was of counsel for Preston and
his men, in 1770, and, regardless of popular clamour, discharged his
duty with ability and firmness. He was consistent, unwavering, and
determined from the first, and employed his pen in defence of the
colonies flrom his earliest manhood. He was engaged in contro-
versy with those who took the side of the crown, until a few months
previous to the battle of Lexington. He wrote over the signature
" NovANGLUs," in answer to one who had taken the signature
" Massachutensis," and whom he supposed to be Jonathan Sewall,
then attorney-general, but it has lately been stated, on the authority
of Sampson Salter Blowers, chief justice of the supreme court of Hali-
fax, who, with Mr. Adams, was at that time a member of the Suffolk
bar, that " TuassachtUensis^^ was written by Mr. Leonard, a younger
member of that bar than either Adams or Sewall, and after-
wards a judge in one of the English West India islands. These
were able papers on the great questions then before the people, full
of strikmg thoughts and plam and direct arguments: we speak thus

m LECTURES ON

freely of both of these writers ; they managed their causes welL
Mr. Adams was, at all times, a bold straight-forward writer, and
sometimes was quite prophetick in his conjectures.

Among the writers of that day, no man was more conspicuous
than Doctor Samuel Cooper. He was a most acceptable preacher
and a fine scholar; probably more refined in his style than most other
writers in our country; but he did not confine himself to religious
subjects alone. He saw that encroachments on civil liberty would
reach, in no distant day, the liberty of conscience, and hierarchies
would grow up when tiie elective franchise had become a nullity.
His polished style had reached Paris, and his fame as a fine ^vriter
was among the first circles of taste and fieishion. He was a friend to
learning, and was a member of the corporation of Harvard College ;
but he did not content himself, on the score of duty, with college halls
or religious temples, but threw out the strong emotions of his clear
Hiind into the political excitements of the day. He wrote frequently
in the publick journals, particularly in the Boston Grazette, on all the
current topicks of the day. These pieces of composition were remark-
able for perspicuity and elegance ; and the good people were look-
ing out as each paper came from the press, for something from his
pen, as a charm and a guide. He wrote a pamphlet called " the
Criais^^^ which contained a great share of neat and forcible argu-
ment, but is not equal to many of his other compositions. All his
works have a political bearing, or, at least, a great portion of them.
The most popular works of Doctor Cooper, w^re the following dis-
cpurses : on the Artillery election, 1751 ; and in 1753, an address for
encouraging industry ; this contained the true principles of political
economy ; that is, for the rich to study to find work for the poor as
a preventive of further distress ; and many others, upon occasional
subjects, were printed by his friends, as he delivered them before the
several societies which called his talents to their aid. A sermon on
the reduction of Quebec, was a very popular discourse in this
qountry and in England; and one on the commencement of the
new constitution of Massachusetts, October 25th, 1780, was thought,
by statesmen, to be a very correct exposition of the great doctrines
of a free government. This political discourse was translated into
the French and Oerman languages, and perhaps many others. It
was no less admired for its bold and generous principles, than for its
polished style and elegant composition. It was sent through,
Europe, as at once a specimen of the mode of thinking and writing
in the American states. One of his great maxims was, that know-
ledge and virtue are the pillars of a free government ; and these
Tfere only to be had and supported by institutions of learning and
x^igipn : he was therefore foremost in raising and in supporting se«

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 03

mlnaries of letters, arts, and sciences in the country ; and the Ame-
rican Academy of Arts and Sciences was honoured by his being
elected the first president of that body. The political influence of such
a man is noiseless, but effective. The truths he teaches steal into the
minds of the reading part of the community, and are transmitted
with theirs to less enlightened minds, and so on, as far as any think
or reason at all upon such matters. The letters, the reasoning, the
current of feeling in his extensive circle, for several years after Dr.
Cooper wrote, bore marks of his works having been textrbooks and
standards all around him.

Among the distinguished political writers of that day, as well as a
great Fanuiel Hall orator, was Josiah Quincy. He had graduated
in 1763, with a splendid reputation for his early years. A reputa-
tion, at his period of life, is so full of promise, that in many cases it
falls short of the ardent hopes of friends, and often disappoints the
calculations of the community ; but it was not so with Mr. Quincy;
his fame increased until his death, in 1775. At the bar he was con-
spicuous, yielding to none in fluency and energy ; his voice and
person were much in his favour, and his fearless course of indepen-
dence, with or against the current of popular feeling, gave him the
confidence of all sides. Never was there a more ardent or inflexible
whig than Mr. Quincy. He was not content with raising his voice
in the primary assemblies of the people, but took up his pen to assist
them in giving their complaints to the world. The Boston Port-
biUj an act of parliament to punish the people of Boston for destroy-
ing the tea, and other acts of a rebellious nature, as they were con-
sidered by the British ministry, made its appearance in 1774, in this
country, and the port of Boston was shut up in obedience to it. This
was a violent measure, and raised a clamour through the country. Mr.
Quincy seized the opportunity, and wrote a review of this measure,
entitled, " Thoughts on the Boston Port-bill, &c. addressed to the
freeholders and yeomanry of Massachusetts." This was well writ-
ten for the times ; a tame discussion would not have met the exigen-
cies of that day. He closes the notice with these bold remarks, evi-
dently emanating from a mind made up to meet the coming crisis,
however bloody or lasting. " America has her Bruti and Cassii, her
Hambdens and Sidneys, patriots and heroes, who will form a band
of brothers ; men who will have memories and feelings, courage
tliat shall inflame their ardent bosoms, till their hands cleave to their
swords, and their swords to their enemies hearts."

The publick had so long been in training for the evil times which
came upon them, that every one was thoroughly prepared for all the
difiiculties which he had to encounter. From 1761 to 1775, know-
ledge was disseminated, feelings were communicated, and mutual

M LECTURES ON

pledges, in the best of all forms, that of general sympathy and simi-
larity of opinions, were given. There were no discordant notes in
the concert 5 all were in tune to any master hand that struck the
chords.

The massacre, as the death of those who fell on the 5th of
March, 1770, by the firing on the inhabitants of Boston, by a pla-
toon of Captain Preston's company, has ever been called, wad
made an admirable cause to rouse the people to arms, or rather
to prepare them to resist further aggressions. It is a law of nature,
that the blood of unarmed citizens should cry from the ground for
vengeance. It is a voice that ages cannot stifle. The patriot lead-
ers, at that time, restrained the sudden vengeance of the people, but
still kept alive the feelings of a just resentment, with great address.
On the 5th of March, 1771, a number of the citizens of Boston
assembled to mourn the fate of those who had fallen the preceding
year. It was then thought by some, that an oration should be deli-
vered on the occasion, and James Lovell, A. M., a much respected
grammar schoolmaster, renowned for his learning and eloquence, a
very decided whig, was selected for the task ; and, on the 9th of
April, 1771, the next month, he was ready, and delivered his ora-
tion on the massacre. This address was a serious political disser-
tation upon the rights, duties, and feelings of the American people.

The next year, on liie 5th of March, 1772, Dr. Joseph Warren was
selected as the orator. He explained, in his oration, the nature of
the social compact, spoke of the struggles Britain herself had made
for liberty, and of the excellence of the British constitution, of which
he considered that of Massachusetts, and, in fact, that of all the colo-
nies, a copy. He proceeded to try the acts of Britain by her own
constitution, and found them wanting in justice and law. The ruin-
ous consequences of standing armies were dwelt upon with great
severity and openness. The tragedy of that fatal night was depicted
in glowing colours, and managed with a master's skill. The appeal
to his countr3rmen, in this address, was received as a hallowed burst
of feeling from a patriot's heart, which reached every pulse in the
hearts of his hearers.

In 1773, Dr. Benjamin Church, a physician in Boston, a gentle-
man distinguished for his learning, talents, and, at that time, for pa-
triotism, was sejected as orator for the anniversary of the 5th of
March. His oration was written in a fine style, and was a good
commentary upon the great doctrines of liberty. In this produc-
tion, Junius is quoted as an authority, for the first time I ever remem-
ber to have seen his name in a solemn address. Church was a poet,
end closes his oration, after a pathetic burst of eloquence upon the
" foul deed" of a standing army, done in a time of peace, upon a

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 95

defenceless populace, in the following lines, which were undoubtedly
his own:

"Thou who yon bloody walk shalt travetse, there
Where troops of BrUairVa king on Britain's son?
Discharged the leaden vengeance : pass not on
Ere thou hast blest their memory, and paid
Those hallowed tears which soothe the virtuous dead:
O stranger! stay thee, and the scene around
Contemplate well ; and if, perchance, thy home
Salute thee vnth a Other's honoured name,
Go call thy sons — ^instruct them what a debt
They owe their ancestors, and make them swear
To pay it, by transmitting down entire
Those sacred rights, to which themselves were bom.^'

In 1774, John Hancock was appointed orator for the 5th of March.
This oration has been much read and admired ; it was impassioned
in the parts relating to the events of that particular day ; but less
florid and swelling than some others on the occasion.

In 1775, Joseph Warren was, for the second time, the orator. He
wrote with the fire of genius and the boldness of a hero. The pa-
pers had teemed with writings which were easily traced by his ene-
mies to him, for they contained a spu*it which could not be mistaken.
This last oration was the knell of his own obsequies, for in a few
months he was slain in supporting the doctrines he, on this 5th of
March, promulgated to his countrymen. The martyr's blood sealed
the patriot's sincerity ; and the soil that drank the stream of life,
grows holier with every passing age. There was something in this
second appointment, that deserves commemoration. It was at his
own solicitation that he was appointed to this duty a second time.
The fact is illustrative of his character. Some British officers of the
army, then in Boston, had publickly declared, that it should be at
the price of the Ufe of any man to speak of the event of the 6th of
March, 1770, on that anniversary. Warren's soul took fire at such
a threat, so openly made, and he wished for the honour of braving
it. This was readily granted, for, at such a time, a man would pro-
bably find but few rivals. Many, who would spium the thought of
personal fear, might be apprehensive that they would be so far dis-
concerted as to forget their discourse. It is easier to fight bravely,
than to think clearly and correctly in danger. Passion sometimes
nerves the arm to fight, but disturbs the regular current of thought.
The day came, and the weather was remarkably fine. The old
south meeting-house was crowded at an early hour. The British
oflScers occupied the aisles^ the flight of steps to the pulpit, and

06 LECTURES ON

several of them were within it. It was not precisely known, whe-
ther this was accident or design. The orator, with the assistance of
his friends, made his entrance at the pulpit window by a ladder.
The officers, seeing his coolness and intrepidity, made way for him
to advance and address the audience. An awful stillness preceded
his exordium. Each man felt the palpitations of his own heart, and
saw the pale, but determined, face of his neighbour. The speaker
began his oration in a firm tone of voice, and proceeded with great
energy and pathos. Warren and his friends were prepared to chas-
tise contumely, prevent disgrace, and avenge an attempt at assassi-
nation. The scene was sublime ; a patriot, in whom the flush of
youth, and the grace and dignity of manliood were combined, stood
armed in the sanctuary of God, to animate and encourage the sons
of liberty, and to hurl defiance at their oppressors. The orator
commenced with the early history of the country, described the te-
nure by which we held our liberties and property ; the affection we
had constantly shown the parent country, and boldly told them
how, and by whom, these blessings of life had been violated. There
was, in this appeal to Britain, in this description of suffering, agony,
and horror, a calm and high-souled defiance, which must have chil-
led the blood of every sensible foe. Such another hour has seldom
happened in the history of man, and is not surpassed in the records
of nations. The thunders of Demosthenes rolled at a distance from
Philip and his host, and Tully poured the fiercest torrent of his in-
vective, when Cataline was at a distance, and his dagger no longer to
be feared ; but Warren's speech was made to proud oppressors, rest-
ing on their arms, whose errand it was to overawe, and whose busi-
ness it was to fight.

If the deed of Brutus deserved to be commemorated by history,
poetry, painting, and sculpture, should not this instance of patriot-
ism and bravery be held in lasting remembrance ? If he " that
struck the foremost man of all this world," was hailed as the first of
freemen, what honours are not due to him, who, undismayed,
bearded the British lion, to show the world what his countrymen
dared to do in the cause of liberty ? If the statue of Brutus was
placed amongst those of the gods, who were the preservers of Ro-
man freedom, should not that of Warren fill a lofty niche in the
temple reared to perpetuate the remembrance of our birth as a
nation?

In 1776, the anniversary of the massacre was kept at Watertown,
■//i. ,f ( : • ■ ' i • Boston being then in the almost exclusive possession of the British.

The Rev. Peter Thatcher was the orator. The same subject natu-
rally led to the consideration and discussion of the same general
principles. The times and the events of the day, provided tibe ora-

AMERICAN LITERATtJRE. iH

tor with some additional topicks, and he happily introduced the late
of Warren and Montgomery, whose prematm'e deaths were mourn-
ed by all classes of people in the country, as those who were near
and dear to liberty and to them. The people of Boston kept up the
practice of noticing this anniversary until the close of the war, and
then it was discontinued, and the celebration of the fourth of July
succeeded. In 1778, Benjamin Hitchbom, Esq. was orator, and
Jonathan Loring Austin, William Tudor, Esq., Jonathan Mason, Jun^
Thomas Dawes, Jun., George Richards Minot, and Dr. Thomas
Welsh, were called to address the public on this occasion, in succes-
sion. All these productions breathed the same spirit, and made the
same pledges to the world to support them ; and they spoke the lan-
guage of the great mass of the people. I have mentioned these
orations particularly, as showing the subjects of a nation's thoughts^
and the literary form in which they were spoken.

In other colonies, at the same time, the same spirit was awake, and
information was diffused in every form by which intelligence is com-
municated. In 1764, John Dickinson, a member of the assembly of
Pennsylvania, made an impression upon the publick as a patriot of
distinguished talents. In November of 1767, he began to publish
his letters against the acts of the British parliament, laying duties on
paper, glass, and other necessaries of life. They were written in a
bold and dauntless spirit. He was no leveller, but a loyal subject,
who considered it his right to discuss these great matters at all
times. These letters were at that time read by all classes in the
community, and were quoted as being the true sentiments of the
great mass of the thinking people in America. He was a member
of congress in 1774, and was the author of that petition of congress
to the king, which breathes so loyal and yet so firm a spirit, and
which extorted praise from the lips of our enemies, and warm con-
gratulations from our friends. When the proposition was before
congress for the declaration of our independence, Dickinson was
opposed to it, and made a long and powerful speech against it, as a
premature measure, inasmuch as we were not prepared for it ; and
that the hope of reconciliation was not extinct. His argument was
a manly one, and did not impair his reputation any farther than
this, that his constituents were not of the same opinion, and did
not re-elect him until they were satisfied that he would act
generally with those who advocated the declaration of indepen-
dence. When Mr. Dickinson was fully convinced, that a large ma-
jority of the people were willing to risk all on the question of inde-
pendence, he came into it cordially. He was president of Pennsyl-
vania from November, 1783, to 1785. He afterwards removed from
Pennsylvania to Delaware, his native state, and was sent from there
I 13

*^ '-■

« LECTURES ON

to congress under the old confederation. He was a republican,
firmly attached to his country, and laboured heartily for her wel-
fere. He was powerful in argument, bland in manners, rich in
learning, and happy in his taste as a writer on almost every passing
matter, as well as of a more profound nature. His works have
been published, in two volumes, and should be more often referred
to than they are by tlie present generation. He was equally a fa-
vourite with his native and with his adopted state. Even in the vio-
lence of party, his sincerity was never questioned.

Daniel Galloway, Esq. was a native of the same state, and was
also a member of congress from Pennsylvania in 1776, and was op-
pose4 altogether to the declaration of independence. He was a
writer of respectable talents, and, after fully ascertaining what the
people, and their representatives in congress, intended, he differed
with them entirely, and wrote on the British side of the question,
and, after a while, left Philadelphia to join our enemies. At that
time, it must have been very unpopular to have said a word on the
side of our opposers ; and Mr. Galloway must have been a man of
high moral integrity to have got off with so little abuse as he re-
ceived. But his fate was an unfortunate one, for he left us from
principle, but was treated with great rudeness and severity by the
ministry of England.

Another writer on the other side of the question, who claims our
attention and gratitude, was William Henry Drayton, of South
Carolina. He exerted his literary acquirements and talents in the
cause of his country. In 1774, he was the author of a pamphlet
addressed to the American Congress, signed " A Freeman.''^ In
1776, in his judicial capacity, he made a cliarge to a grand jury,
which contained a full and fair view of the situation of our country
at that time, and the duties devolving on every citizen who laid any
claims to love of country. The whole of tliis charge has been pre-
served by Dr. Ramsay in his historical works. This able and
valuable statesman and patriot died while attending his duties as a
member of congress, in Philadelphia, in 1779, at the early age of
thirty-seven. He was truly a great man, and his death was deeply
deplored in every part of the country.

New- York and New- Jersey were happy in having a share in the
fame of William Livingston, governor of the latter state, but a na-
tive of the former, and a writer and politician of di&linction before
he took up his residence in New- Jersey. Livingston was an elegant
scholar, and wrote with great pimgency and effect in those times,
in which every form of argument was required to rouse the spirit
of the people, to discharge their awful responsibilities. The effect
of his exertions were seen in the good conduct of the Jersey mill-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 90

tia, in the most perilous moments of the revolutionary war, when
their territory was overrun by the enemy, and despondency was
extending her paralyzing influences over the whole country, from
Georgia to Maine.

Maryland produced, among her numerous patriots and writers,
one who was very celebrated at the time, in Daniel Dulany, Esq., a
writer on political subjects ; and he has had the credit of having
done much good. He was a lawyer of Annapolis, and distinguished
at the Maryland bar.

Virginia had her share of writers previous to the revolution, al-
though she did not for some time feel much of the arbitrary power
of Great Britain. Thomas Jefferson, when quite a young man, wrote
upon the great questions then agitated, but his whole history is so
well known that it would be useless to restate it. Richard Bland,
Arthiu- Lee, and Robert Carter Nicholas, were also known as writers
on the popular side of the question in Virginia. Bland was a dis-
tinguished member of the house of burgesses, in 1776, and at that
time published an inquiry into the rights of the British colonies in
America, in answer to a pamphlet published in London in the pre-
ceding year, entitled " regulations lately made concerning the colo-
lonies, and the taxes imposed on them considered." Arthur Lee
wrote, in 1769, " the monitor's letters," which were extensively read,
not only in Virginia, but in other parts of the country. There were
others of note and worth who wielded their pens in the great cause
of American freedom, whom we have not had time to mention, par-
ticularly many of the clergymen, who were then in active life, such
as Witherspoon, Webster, and a host of good patriots, who mingled
their ardent wishes for their country with their morning and even-
ing prayers to heaven for salvation. While the statesman called
upon his countrymen from the halls of legislation, to come forward
and act valiantly, the zealous clergyman entered the citizen's dwell-
ing, preached a homily on the duties of a patriot before the fire-side
and at the family altar, and roused father and son to gird on their
swords and march for the defence of their country j and not un-
frequently, when his flock were ready for the field, joined them
himself with the sword of Gideon and the Lord^ to encourage their
hearts and strengthen their hands.

During all these preparations for the coming conflict, the subject
of education was more attended to than ever it had been. In addi-
tion to the common course of instruction, the Oriental languages,
which are now opening their inexhaustible treasures of learning to
the world, were assiduously cultivated. After the resignation of
Morris, as Hebrew instucter in Harvard University, a professorship
of Oriental Literature was established by the munificence of Thomas

100 LECTURES ON

(i , • ' f Hancock, uncle to John Hancock, the patriot, and Stephen Sewall,

.cjUui\^ vt if^'i^ was selected for the Oriental chair. He was indeed well qualified

for the office, being probably the best linguist of his age. He was

bred a mechanick, a house-joiner, until he was one and twenty years
of age, and was distinguished for his skill in his trade. He had been
fond of books, and had made many curious philological researches
that attracted the attention of a learned divine in his vicinity, who
gave him every aid in his power. The pupil made the most rapid
advances in the languages, and studied them so deeply and carefully,
that he became unquestionably the first critick of his time in this
Gomitry. He wrote Greek odes, which were noticed in England.
He went perhaps as learnedly into the philosophical constitution of
that beautiful language as Porson and Parr have since done. He
pursued his philological studies farther, and made himself master of
the Syriack, Arabick, Chaldee, Samaritan, Ethiopick, Persiack, and
Goptick. He left some accurate notes on all these languages in his
lectures, and made many remarks on them in a correspondence
held with the learned OrientaUsts in Europe, which received from
these professors the highest commendations. He made a lexicon of
some of these languages, and translated a part of Young's Night
Thoughts into Latin hexameter. It was in no small degree owing
to this fine classical scholar that Hebrew retained its rank among
the languages, when the spirit of modern philosophy strove to banish
it from the dignity of those languages worthy the attention of a
learned man. The day of proscription has passed ; the inquiring
mind has found some of the richest gems of thought, some of the
loveliest flowers of poetry, and many touches of a profound philo-
sophy, in the immense fields of eastern literature, through which
the scholars of the present day are travelling with inexpressible
pleasure.

For many years previous to the revolution, the science of govern-
ment and the rights of man were subjects of discussion at Harvard
University, in every form of their Uterary exercises, from dialogues
to orations, not only on quarter-days and commencements, but at
all other times. The students examined all the principles of politi-
cal and civil liberty of the ancient republicks, and were well read in
v^-^ . the EngUsh constitution, and also in that of the United Provinces of

the Netherlands ; and the forms of liberty in the Italian cities, such
as had boasted of their freedom in modem days, were commented
upon with the spirit of reformers ; the right to resist oppression was
often taken as a theme for declamation, and the loudest applause was
l^towed on the boldest of the advocates for the doctrhie. I name
iiot this fact as wishing to consider them as models for the student
at the present day : the present times demand other directions of

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 101

the human mind, but simply to show how intimately our literature
and national existence have been connected.

It was a mutual and most felicitous thought, to call the learned
men of all times and nations a Republick of Letters ; for with them,
in every age, have been found the true doctrines of political liberty )
and the seeds of civil institutions. The learned, as a body, have fa-
voured freedom of opinion, and the sacred rights of man, even in the
courts of tyrants, and in the faces of their creatures. The learned
priests of Egjrpt wrested from their kings rights for themselves, and
protection for the people. In the walks of the academy and the
halls of science, the mind threw o£f its shackles ; and in the con-
templation of the laws of nature, and of the moral world, and in the
pursuit of science and the arts, it lost- its reverence for hereditary
claims to eminence, and looked directly with a philosophical eye
to the fitness of things, thoughtless of arbitrary distinctions among
men. In a community where the operations of the mind may be
watched in its advancements in knowledge, those cast by nature in
a superiour mould will attract the attention and receive that homage
which in some form or other genius will for ever secure. The in-
stitutions of learning in our country had, it is true, some of the
forms and shows of the relicks of aristocracy, in the arrangements of
their catalogues, or some trifling ceremonies ; but there never ex-
isted purer fountains of political justice, and true equality, than
were to be found in them. The right once established to judge of
religious doctrines, of reasoning upon human, angelick, and divine
natures, embraces in it the right of judging upon the political, civil,
and moral conduct of men, in, or out of power. The student, sur-
rounded by the lights of mind which had illumined the world in
every age, and holding, every day, converse, through their works,
with the mighty dead, felt no great respect or reverence for empty-
headed vanity, or ignorant pride, however bloated by consequence, or
elated by the possession of power; for he knew that, at best, for him
who possessed it, power could not be permanent, or with us heredi-
tary ; he therefore saw, as he looked forward into his country's his-
tory, one generation of little oppressors pass off after another, as in-
sects of a day, or creatures of a moment. If all the scholar felt could
not have been fully communicated to his fellow actors as he entered into
life, yet sufficient of his spirit might have been diflused to have given
a similarity to the feelings and reasonings of others, and to have pre-
pared the community to reason and think for themselves on all subjects
involvmg their rights and privileges. Every educated man who had
left these walks of learning, became a Hierophant of liberty among
the people, and taught them, at once, the means and the blessings of
freedom. The love of freedom with them was no phosphorick light
12

103 LECTURES ON

or flickering blaze from putrescent masses, or occasional ignition,

but a steady flame, wliich burnt like the sacred fire on the altars of

Greece, in the temple of liberty, or that holier flam» of the lamp of

God in the house of the Lord, which burnt day and night to keep

the hallowed fane from darkness and pollution. The liberty they

( asked was only British liberty, such as the people of England en-

] joyed, and still enjoy : that they should be taxed by their own re-

' presentatives, and by none others.

LECTURE VII.

" The true patriot is found in all classes of men ; his name is sacred, his deeds
are glorious ; he is not seduced by honours or rewards ; he is above all bribes;
he is destitute of all selfishness ; he is ready to pour out his blood as water for
his country's good ; he labours for great ends by honest means ; he fears luxu-
ry as a national evil ; he dreads parsimony as a national curse ; he thinks no
man lives for himself alone ; he subdues his pride, and humbles his sense of
importance, by thinking how short is human life ; he represses his vanity by
knowing how many are his superiours ; he feels rightly ; thinks correctly ;
judges candidly ; acts wisely ; hopes humbly ; and dies in the full assurance of
immortality — ^favoured by men, or if not that, beloved by God."

The Pairiot^a Manual,

During the long agony of our revolutionary conflict, our small se-
minaries of learning were generally closed, and the course of in-
struction in colleges and high schools was interrupted ; yet the minds
of the people were never more active. Every publick square and
every private dwelling, were places of discussion, and of inquiry into
the general principles of liberty of thinking, and acting. The
fervour of passion had passed away ; and that cool determination
succeeded, which denotes a firmness of purpose, and which is not to
be shaken, and that high resolve which nothing can break down.
The publick documents of that day, fully show this calm and quiet
temper, for in them there is nothing spiteful, irritable, or feverish.
A careless observer might think that the hearts of the people were
not in this cause, all things were conducted with such serenity. It
is a fact worthy of notice, that on the 17th of June, 1775, the pro-
vincial congress of Massachusetts was in session at Watertown, not

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 108

more than six miles, if so much, from Charlestown heights ; yet
their records show that they were busy throughout that, eventful
day, in their deUberations. Notwithstanding the incessant roar of
musketry and cannon, and the awful conflagration of Charlestown,
the dwellmgs of their ifriends and neighbours, yet not a man left his
seat ; and the journal of their proceedings on that day is very full,
and marked with precision and fine chirography. Not the slightest
allusion is to be found on these records, to the alarm of the neigh-
bourhood, or the possibility of defeat in the contest. It was not
until three days after the fight, that even the probability of the death
of their President, General Warren, was suggested, and that only on
a motion to proceed to the choice of another, to fill his place. These
conscript fathers would not give the people any intimation that
they would shrink from personal danger, while in the discharge of
their duties as statesmen. Their first account of this event is pre-
pared with great deliberation ; not a word of boasting is contained
in it, nor is there even a just account of American bravery to be
found in it. In fact, they were not apprised of the honour of that
fight, at that time. The language of the continental congress also,
at that time, is full of the same modesty, which the enemy took for
timidity and fear. The addresses which came from this body were
not tinctured with the slightest boasting, even when arguing with
friends or foes. They made no flattering appeal to the people they
wished to arouse to action, and prepare for disasters and blood-shed,
in every form of attack, from their enemies.

The petitions and addresses to the king of Great Britain were
modest, patient, and manly ; those to the people of England, af-
fectionate and full of sorrow, that such times should have come, and
such evils, as they suffered, should exist. The declaration of inde-
pendence, in which, it might be supposed, was concentrated all their
wrongs and sufferings, is still expressed in the calm language of en-
during philosophy and patriotism, without one particle of rage or
vengeance, but still strong, clear, bold, and impressive.

The pamphlets and letters of that period are, with a few excep-
tions, models of plain unsophisticated reasoning, and addressed to
the understandings of the people, rather than to their passions.
Nothing of the tumid, vapouring, trash of the electioneering style
of later days was known to those who brought on our independence,
at the price of blood and treasure, which price was not fixed to any
limits, nor bounded by any measure. The addresses of the go-
vernors, presidents, and commanders-in-chief of the militia of the
several states, partook of the same spirit ; and as strange as it may
seem, a better day of taste in literary composition had never been

I ■- ■ »> si » \;

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104 LECTURES ON

known amongst us, than that when the danger was the greatest, and
the minds of men might be thought to be the most perturbed.

Tlie authors of that day, not only availed themselves of the pro-
ductions of the philosophers and sages of antiquity, whose works
abound in all the doctrines of liberty, expressed in every beauty of
language and charm of literature, but also of those pithy writers of a
later date, that political circumstances had brought out, in Italy,
France, and England ; but particularly those of the United Nether-
lands ; these last were of great service, their history resembling our
own more distinctly than that of any other nation. Their articles of
confederation were, confessedly, the basis of ours, at the commence-
ment of the revolution.

Charleston, in South Carolina, has the honour of making the first
Y *- celebration of the 4th of July. This was in 1778, two years only after
the declaration of independence. On that day. Doctor Ramsay, since
so well known to every child in the United States, as a politician
and historian, appeared as the orator. Whoever will turn over the
pages of that excellent address, will rejoice to find how fairly and
faithfully the blessings of independence are enumerated in it ; not
in the swollen language of vanity, striving for importance, but in
the strong, bold, flowing periods, of one who had reasoned and felt
upon all the great matters he was discussing. In all probability,
this custom has been kept alive there ever since ; if not exactly an-
nually, yet with sufficient regularity to answer the purpose of a
proper political stimulant. In 1785, on the 4th of July, Doctor
Josiah B. Ladd, a gentleman of high standing in the literary world,
was solicited in that city, to make an address before the executive
authority of South Carolina. This tasteful effort has been preserved
for our instruction and guide.

In every stage of the contest, the literary men of our country did
every thing in their power, to raise the flame of patriotism in the
breasts of their countrymen. The aphorisms of the poets and sages
of all times and countries were brought forth to enlighten and ani-
mate our people ; and the striking instances of patriotism in history
were made also to bear upon every crisis in our political aflfeirs,
with great judgement. An instance of this I will give you. On the
6th of July, the fourth having been Sunday, in the year 1779,
Judge Breckenridge, of PhUadelphia, delivered an " Eulogium on

THE BRAVE MEN WHO HAD FALLEN IN THE CONTEST WITH

Great Britain." It was a happy thought; the subject was na-
tural and classical, and was treated with great taste and effect.
There was a law of the Athenians, that after a battle in which her
brave men had fallen, an orator should be elected by the court of
Areopagus, to pronounce an eulogy on the deceased before the ci-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 106

tizens of the Republic. In the 87th Olympiad, 431 years before
the christian era, Pericles was appointed by the court to pronounce
an eulogium upon those citizen-soldiers who fell in the first Pelo-
ponnesian war. The oration of this eminent scholar and statesman
has been preserved in the pages of Thucydides, and is one of the
noblest specimens of eloquence which has come down to us from
antiquity. He began with commending to the notice of his audi-
ence their ancestors — the Athenians of other times ; their valour,
their love of liberty, their attention to arts and arms, were touched
with the skill of a master hand. The charms of civil society, of re-
fined manners, and of the sweets of intellectual superiority, were ad-
mirably portrayed. The privileges of the people of Greece, above
all other men, were not forgotten, nor the value of existence kept out
of view ; but at the same time, the honour of dying in the field of
glory was fully set forth. The duty of the publick to the offspring
of those who were slain fighting the battles of the country, was dis-
tinctly stated, and the ordinance on that subject recited ,• " t?iat those
children Tnade fatherless by such a cause^ should he edxicated at
the jyublic eoopense?^

The American orator had a still more noble theme. The Athe-
nians had engaged in this war, not from necessity, but from pride
and a love of military glory. They might have avoided it, and yet
have retained their splendour and liberties, and all those charms
which the orator dwelt upon, as sweetening life. The mighty Athe-
nian said, that one of the great motives which influenced the brave
citizens, and led them to rush on death, was reveng-e, revenge.
The citizen-soldiers of our republic had nothing of revenge in their
dispositions, which brought them to the ensanguined field, and laid
them low in the dust. To use the American orator's words, " it was
the pure love of virtue and freedom^ burning bright within their
minds, that alone could engage them to embark in an undertaking
of so bold and perilous a nature. They were not soldiers by pro-
fession ; they were men in the easy walks of life, mechanicks of the
city, merchants of the counting-house, youths engaged in literary
studies, and husbandmen, peaceful cultivators of the soil, happy in
the sociability and conversation of the town, the simplicity of the
country village, or the philosophick ease of academick leisure, and
the sweets of social life ; they wished not a change of these scenes
of pleasure for the dangers and calamities of war."

The American orator is more impassioned than his great proto-
type of Athens; his language glows with more warmth; there was
less ambition in his strain of eloquence, and more of humanity than
the orator of Athens allowed in his philosophy. Both orators called
up the fathers and the sons of those who fell, to comfort them by

/ . %

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109 LECTURES ON

difierent forms of reasoning. The American orator had the ad-
vantage in the closing part of his oration, for the Athenian, in a few
cold and ungallant sentences addressed to the widows, advised them
" to keep as much ovt ofpMick vieWy and as far from publick re-
markf as possible?^ The American mothers and widows required
no such advice. In the time of Pericles, the christian religion
which gives to women all their true influence, was unknown.
Our orator took leave of the mighty dead, with the heart of a pa-
triot, and with the views of a prophet. " Who in after times (says
he) shall speak of those who have risen to renown ? I will charge it
to the golden-winged and silver-tongued bards : that they recollect
and set in order every circumstance, the causes of the war, early
and just exertions, the toils, hazardous achievements, noble resolu-
tions, unshaken perseverance, unabated ardour, hopes in the worst
of times, triumphs of victory, humanity to an enemy; all these will
I charge it, that they recollect and set in order, and give them bright
and unsullied to the coming ages. The bards I know will hear me ;
and you, my gallant countrymen, shall go down to posterity with
exceeding honour. Your fame shall ascend on the stream of time ;
it shall play with the breezes of the morning. Men at rest in the
cool age of life, from the fury of a thousand wars, finished by their
fathers, shall observe the spreading ensign. They shall hail it, as it
waves with variegated glories, and feeling all the warm rapture of
the heart, shall give their plaudits from the shores."

The Athenians did redeem their pledge ; the orphans were edu-
cated at the publick expense ; but where are the children of those
who fell in our revolutionary war? We leave those to answer who
can, satisfactorily to themselves.

The literature of the revolution is scattered throughout the his-
tory of all the transactions of that eventful period ; but in no in-
stance does it shine more conspicuously than in the productions of
Washington; he was not a scholar by education or profession ; his
information was miscellaneous, and by no means extensive, when his
early publick services began. He knew something of history and
mathematicks, and something of the military tacticks of the day.
He, from his youth, saw things, at all times, through a clear me-
dium, and expressed his thoughts with clearness, force, and honesty.
His history of his journey to the Ohio, undertaken by the order of
Dinwiddle, proves that his judgment was the master trait of his
mind. The object of his mission is not a moment forgotten ; he
looked with a single eye to that object, and he never, for a moment,
turned himself, to think of his dangers or his sufferings. At every
step such a mind improves. His first address to his army in July,
1775, is full of excellent military rules, but is wanting in that felici-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 107

tons elegance which he aflerwards acquired. He nerer suffered a
sentiment to come from his pen negligently written ; all was worked
into ease and dignity. No commander that ever lived had so much
need of this talent. Others have had to issue orders and to give an
account of proceedings ; Washington had not only to do these, but
other things besides. He had, at times, to perform every duty inci-
dent to war, and more, from a pioneer to a field marshal ; and from
a sutler to a chancellor of the exchequer, at least with his pen ; not
only this, he had to use every argument to collect troops, and to
keep them together, even for the shortest time ; apathy was to be
aroused ; vaulting ambition to be struck down ; individual bicker-
ings to be silenced ; sectional irritations to be soothed ; the quarrel-
some and high mettled to be controlled, that the service should not
suffer ; the faint and despairing to be encouraged ; the living to be
supported, and heaven, sometimes, only knew how ; and the dead
were to be duly honoured, according to military usages, when the
army had hardly powder enough to fire a volley at the enemy. In
all this, the address of Washington vras conspicuous, but the pro-
ductions of his pen were more so. He wrote to all, he reasoned
with all, and he conquered all. Congress was not at all times in a pro-
per temper to render him the most efficient aid ; he was obliged to
come upon them in all forms of entreaty; alarming them, at times,
by his intimations of leaving thearmy,usingevery suggestion which
could reach their pride, their patriotism, their honour, courage, or
any other faculty, property, or sympathy, about them. There is not
a form of reasoning that he was not obliged to assume ; still, every
form was pure English, good conmion sense, in his mother tongue.
Cesar wrote his commentaries in the camp, and they are a fine mo-
del of chaste and elegant writing ; but it must be remembered, that
Cesar was a high bred Roman scholar. He was as proud of his
eloquence and fine writing, as he was of his fame as a great leader
of armies. Wolfe made his addresses and wrote his despatches in
the toils and distresses incident to a camp ; but these productions are
but few, compared with those of Washington. Burg03nfie's letters,
written in the field, are said to surpass those written in the closet ;
Nelson's account of the battle of the Nile is sublime 5 and
Buonaparte's address to his soldiers under the p3nramids, is full of
epick grandeur. But these are momentary bursts of chiv^rous feel-
ings; while Washington's addresses, despatches, and letters, to
every one, in every part of the country, was a continued exertion of
reason, to save his country. When the memory of individual ex-
ertion shall be lost, and history shall only speak, in general terms,
of the revolutionary conflict, these letters and addresses of Wash-
ington will preserve the particular scenes of that day, and bring

108 LECTURES ON

them at once to the understanding of men. In looking carefully
over his productions already published, I cannot find in them one
word that is not pure, legitimate English ; good Saxon English,
through which runs the best currents of true liberty in thinking
and acting of any language that can be found, at any time or
place.

The close of the war of independence, when the people fondly
thought that they were about to be rewarded for all their sacrifices,
was the most painful period of our history. At that time, from
1783 to 1789, almost every one found his affairs in a deranged state.
The state debts which had been made in hopes of prosperous times,
then operated severely on all classes in the community. To pay
their debts with promptness was impossible, and every relief-act only
made the matter worse. It was then that the people found that the
great work of independence, as contemplated at the beginning of
the conflict, was only half done ; a form of government was to be
fixed upon to give energy to national power, and success to indi-
vidual and national enterprise. This portentous crisis formed ano-
ther epoch for the display of the literary and political attainments
of the active and patriotick minds in our country. New men ap-
peared on the important discussion of the adoption of the federal
constitution in the several state conventions ; and it was fomid that
the quantity of talent and information in the country had greatly
increased during the war ', and that its standard quality was equally
good and precious as that which had been assayed at the commence-
ment of the difiiculties. A thousand intellectual lamps were lighted
up along our shores, to show the people in what darkness they were
groping, and to what a precipice they were hastening. A baleful
meteor now and then led the people for a moment astray, but at
length the right path was found, and the nation commenced its
march onward to prosperity and honour.

Perhaps it were well to pause a moment and name a few of those
who displayed their literature and eloquence at this important period.
They left unexplored no portion of history. They passed by no
lesson of experience ; all were faithfully examined and thoroughly
sifted, and the people had the benefits of the results. That nation
cannot be long in danger that can, on any great event, command her
physical and mental powers for her safety and guide.

It was felt by all thinking men, in every part of the country, that
the old confederation was no longer a sufficient bond of union. The
great pressure of common danger, which had kept all secure, had
in a great measure ceased, and the people were hurrying fast on to
anarchy, for want of a government that could enforce its requisitions.

From these conventions much of the nature of our people, their

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 109

hfi^itsof thinking, and reasoning, and feeling, may be gathered. In
looking over the debates in the several conventions in the different
states, we find a great deal of talent displayed, from New-Hamp-
shire to Greorgia ; and we may also see that the education of each
state had been nearly on the same model ; for in reading the speeches
of all, a foreigner would at once pronounce that the orators were
trained in the same school. The style of eloquence may vary a
little, but the language used in the debates is 8dl in the good old
English books. They had the same jealousies, the same hopes and
fears, and the same determinations. These jealousies had taken
rank hold of common minds in every portion of the country ; but it
is not too much to say, that those in favour of adopting the constitu-
tion were generally of the higher classes of intellect, and those who
had most at stake, although it must be conceded that there were
many exceptions to this remark. The speakers in favour of adopt-
ing the constitution far outnumbered those opposed to it, in propor-
tion to the majority obtained for the final vote.

In the convention of Massachusetts, there were, out of three hun-
dred and fifty-five members, sixty-seven speakers, and not more than
eight or ten ventured to oppose the constitution in debate ; and yet
there were, after every exertion, but a majority of nineteen in favour
of the adoption of it. In the convention of New- York, which con-
sisted of about sixty members, there was only a majority of two in
favour of the adoption ; and among the thirteen speakers there were
only two or three in the negative. The talents were certainly on
the side of the adoption ; the impressions of the people were at first
decidedly against it, from the fear that they were giving up too much
of their hard earned liberty, and not from any wish to live in a state
of anarchy. A bookseller of the city of Washington has, with a
very enterprising spirit, commenced the pubhcation of the debates
in the several conventions ; and has issued one volume, containing
those in the conventions of Massachusetts and New- York. This is
a laudable enterprise, and we wish him the success which he de-
serves. It must, however, be taken into consideration, that forty
years have elapsed since these debates were reported ; and at that
time the art of reporting speeches was but little known ; and it can-
not be supposed that in cases where the speakers did not assist the
reporters, that we have any thing more than the skeletons of the
speeches delivered. The convention of Massachusetts were toge-
ther from the 9th of January, 1788, to February 7th, twenty-nine
days, at which time there were nearly two hundred speeches made;
and among the orators some of the first men New-England ever
produced. Parsons, Ames, Cabot, Gore, King, Dana, Jarvis, Strong,
Brooks, Dawes, and others, who exhausted every subject they dis-
K

no LECTURES ON

cussed. The whole of these speeches is comprised in one hundred
and fifty octavo pages ; and from a comparison of their different
styles of speaking on other subjects, I find that the reporter's, not
the speaker's style, is to be seen ; still, however, much credit is due
to him for getting these debates up so well as he did at that time.
The New-York orators were fortunate, for they undertook to assist
the reporter, and of course posterity will have a fair view of their
arguments. It must be granted that the New-York convention was
a highly intellectual body.

Virginia, always true to her native talents, had an experienced
reporter in the conv^tion to take down the debates ; and fortunately
for us, he extended them to three volumes, amounting to six hun-
dred and twelve closely printed pages; and although that body was
in session but twenty-six days, and only thirteen or fourteen mem-
bers attempted to speak, yet we have more matter from these
speeches than from the Massachusetts and New- York reports to-
gether. Those in the Virginia convention, in favour of adopting
the proposed constitution, who distinguished themselves by their
speeches, were Messrs. Nicholas, Randolph, Madison, Pendleton,
Marshall, and Tyler. Those opposed to its adoption, were Patrick
Henry, Mason, Munroe, Grayson, and Dawson. Mr. Madison took
a very active part, and spoke more than any other member in the
convention ; although all those mentioned were deeply engaged.
It will not be denied, at this day, that throughout the thirteen United
States, in these debates on establishing a form of government,
a majority of the talents was on the side of the constitution ;
yet there were able men opposed to it. When the main question
was taken, the plurality in Virginia was only ten— eighty-nine vo-
ting in the afllrmative, and seventy-nine in the negative. The ques-
tion was ably argued on both sides, and the objections very honestly
given. Patrick Henry, and those who acted with him, were fearful
of the loss of state influence. They were alarmed at the expression
" we, the people." They saw in this phrase a consolidation of inte-
rests which was not consistent with state pride ; while, in many states,
the people were afraid that individual rights would be lost. These
different jealousies were shown at every movement of the states ;
but at last were happily overcome by the perseverance of the friends
of the constitution. A victory was obtained more diflicult to achieve
than any; yea, than all those of arms which had been gained in the
revolutionary struggle. These jealousies were natural, but the con-
quest over them was glorious.

I should proceed to give the best information I have upon the
conventions of the other states, if the publick were not soon to be
in possession of all that remains of their history from the press of

AMERICAN LITERATURE. Ul

Mr. J. Elliott, of Washington, whoee labours and researck in this
undertaking deserve the patronage of the publick.

It is to be regretted, that so many of the speeches of the members
of the diflferent conventions, are irrecoverably lost for the want of
a proper reporter at the time, and from inattention since. It is a
mortifying truth that more of our history, or more of the minute
facts of which our history has been composed, have been preserved
by other nations than by ourselves. ITie nations of Europe con-
sidered our case a new one in the annals of the world ; and some
of their curious speculators on the progress of events, took infinite
pains to procure all the information to be had in respect to us and
our proceedings. The Italian historian, Botta, not only procured
all the information he could, but set down and wrote the history of
our revolution with great fairness, and with tolerable accuracy.
Professor Ebeling, of Germany, had the intention, it is said, of wri-
ting out our whole history, and collected a great mass of materials
for that purpose. The history he did not write; but we have,
through the medium of an individual, the benefit of his collections;
they having been purchased and brought to this country.

There is one work which deserves our notice, and which ought
to be republished, as there are but few copies of it in this country.
" The Remembrancer, or an Impartial Repository of Publick Events."
This work was begun by J. Almon, and published in monthly num-
bers, in London. It extends over the whole time of the revolution,
from 1775 to 1783, and amounts to fourteen volumes, as collected
and bound. The work was friendly to the cause of America, and
was supported by the friends of this country at that time, and is
remarkable for its candour, truth, and fidelity. One already pos-
sessed of the general outlines of the great contest between the colo-
nies and the mother country, will find in this work more valuable
documents, of a particular and circumstantial nature, to aid him in
getting a minute history of his country at that period, than he can
in any other work extant. Every one who has read history with
attention, and with a desire to gain knowledge, will frequently find
that there are a thousand little chinks left by the general writer that
he could wish to see filled up ; but knows not where to seek for the
facts he is anxious to find. As to the history of our revolution,
these volumes will greatly assist him. It has been a fruitful source
for the historians themselves. The Remembrancer is something
like Niles' Register, and is now what that will be to the future his-
torians of our country. We are deeply indebted to the friends of
our cause, at that period, hi every part of the world, for their help-
ing hand and good wishes ; without which we might have Mated

J^>\t

113 LECTURES ON

In reaching the goal and obtaining the prize 5 gratitude should
member what benevolence has forgotten.

After these great exertions for the adoption of the federal consti-
tution had been made in the state conventions, and indeed while
£^i\<i they were making, and the question was under discussion, a great

deal was written by men of enlightened minds, and given to the
' ^ public, to clear up the difficulties which had been suggested by those
opposed to the form of government provided for in the constitution.
Mr. Jay, Mr. Madison, and Mr. Hamilton, brought all the powers of
their mighty minds, to satisfy the people that they were doing wisely
to support the constitution, not only in convention, but by a series
of letters in the publick prints. These periodicals, now acknow-
ledged as their productions, unite the soundest maxims of good go-
vernment, with the clearest and best illustrations of the best forms
in which it could appear. These productions may be said to have
fixed the publick mind. The relations and bearings of the provi-
sions of the constitution, were so distinctly pointed out in them, that
all could understand ; and such was the correctness and beauty of
thQ.style of these numbers, that by them the taste of the country
was refined, as well as the views of the citizens enlarged, and their
understandings enlightened. I shall not stop, at this moment, to
point out the part each one took in this great labour ; but simply
/ make this passing remark, that the Federalist stands foremost among
American literary productions, whether we consider the subject, the
i matter, or style of the work, or its usefulness in explaining the
^ views of those learned statesmen who achieved the second part of
' our independence. The effect of this work was such, that in a few
years after it gained general circulation, there was scarcely a man
; to be found who questioned the propriety of the adoption of the
. constitution.

The valour which fought out the battles of the revolutionary war,
and finally drove the enemy from our shore, and the wisdom which
suggested our excellent form of government, and the address and
. perseverance which led to its adoption, were more than equalled
by the wisdom and prudence with which the machinery was set in
motion. The first congress, under the constitution, was composed
'', offfl'eat men ; most of them had been reared in the school of expe-
\ rience, and had been employed previously in considering that in-
V , strument ; in order to assist in forwarding its adoption, they came
• to their congressional duties with a spirit of forbearance, ready to
sacrifice all local prejudices on the altar of their country's good.
What the knowledge and experience of one did not reach, the in-
genuity of the other suggested, and all went on harmoniously and
successfully. There was a deliceicy shown to each other in that

AMERICAN LITERATURE. IW

body,generaIly speaking, which has never been felt or exhibited since;
and perhaps it has never since been so necessary as at that time.
The eyes of the community were turned towards congress as to-
wards the trying of an experiment, of which there were nearly as
many fears as hopes. To use a phrase from the laws of the solar
83rstem, its polarity was inclined towards democracy, as being more
eongenial to the feelings of the people, and more consistent with
the elements of our society, than a stronger government would have
been. The people reasoned from expanded views of human nature,
and a thorough acquaintance vnth history. They saw that des- '
potick power destroys the oak of liberty, by cutting up root and •
branch, and by striking the soil on which it grows with dead sterility;
while anarchy, if it comes at all, comes in a whirlwind with an hun- '.
dred hands, and scatters the leaves and breaks the branches; but the
root is not always left sapless ; and the acorn, trodden under foot, '
may burst its germ and spring into life, and flourish in a new ge-
neration. Violent politicd discussions often pass away, and leave
the lessons of experience to be felt and regarded ; but nations rarely
recover from the paralysis of despotisnL Our ancestors saw tiw
mother country, even in all the disasters and horrors of civil wan^
advance in power and influence, while Spain, in the quiet of arbi^
trary power, was fast sinking into a secondary importance. la
England the most useM institutions, and many of her learned men,
grew up immediately after a civil war, or in it; while with all the
influx of gold from the new world, learning and the arts declined at
the same time, in the calm of Spanish despotism.

The literature of nations may be seen, in some measure, in the
style in which their laws are written, and by their state papers.
We judge of the state of the Romans by the style of the Justinian
code, as well as by the poets of the Augustan age. In fact, the style
of the laws is a better proof of the general advancement of knowledge,
than that of the works of a few poets. The laws reflect the ge-
neral intelligence, while poetry is perhaps only the reflected imagery
of a few individual minds. The laws of the United States show a (
great extent of knowledge in the civil and commercial relations of
society and nations. No country ever produced so many laws in so
short a period of time. These laws and regulations are, in general,
clear and expUcit ; sometimes they are marked with the peculiar
phraseology of a particular state, as borrowed from the statute book
of that state ; but this is not perceptible to any one but those deei^y
read in these state laws. Every day's business is giving a mors
entire national stamp to the statute book of the United States; and
the numerous and lucid decisions of the supreme court have pro*
duced uniform constructions in the laws which were in some degree
K2 15

114 LECTURES ON

differently construed in different sections of this extended country
at the commencement of our national career.

The style of our state papers has been of a high order, in point of
clearness and correctness, the great requisites in communications of
a publick nature. The first secretaries were men of industry and
learning, and they spared no pains to leave on record proofs of their
abilities as makers of precedents. A responsible situation, indeed ;
several of these men were prime scholars, and felt that they were
making models for future ages. It is a subject of congratulation to
us, that so many patient, industrious, and learned men were, at that
period, found for the discharge of such important duties. The anxiety
of the first president to have every thing well matured, and clearly
expressed, was favourable for the commencement of such an order
of things. The duties of high political offices are always laborious
and painful ; but when there were but few or no landmarks to guide
them, it must have been difficult indeed to have steered so correctly.

Much debating talent had been shown in congress in every stage
of organizing and making these laws, the passage of which circum-
stances imperiously demanded ; but there was no particular display
of eloquence from any side of the house, until the British treaty
called it forth ; and perhaps, at no time since, have higher powers
been developed in our national assembly, than on that subject The
champions, for and against, came forward and fought valiantly. It
was a new question ; and there might have been some honest differ-
ences ; but it was debated upon party grounds, and so decided. Who
were right or who were wrong it matters not, as it regards these
lectures ; it is mentioned as an era in our eloquence, so memorable,
that American talent, in speaking, is never mentioned without some
allusion to the debate on Jay's treaty.

Literature and science are near in their relationship, and seldom
knovm to be far separated. Literatm^ has generally received more
attention in the early ages of nations than science. The sweet in*
fluences of Orion and Pleiades had been sung for ages in poetry,
before science had marked their courses or weighed them in her
balance ; and science, after all the discoveries she has made, has
adopted the terms used by taste and imagination, long before these
discoveries were thought of. Every profession, to be respectable,
must unite both in some degree. Without both, they are only
trades, possessing neither dignity, nor refinement, nor interest. Ba-
con was the first among the lawyers who brought taste into the
science of the profession. For this, he was derided by Coke as un-
sound and fanciful. Bacon could do nothing without leaving the
impressions of mind, taste, and elegant novelty upon it. He laid
hold of all the fabulous history of gods and demigods, and heroes,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 116

and laid bare its hidden meaning, and, by his explanations, gave
utility, point, and beauty, to that which before seemed useless,
dull, and extravagant. It is the pride of the present day, that his
fame has been defended, and his honesty provwl, by one of our own
countr3anen, after it had been surrounded by falsehood and preju-
dice, for more than a century and a half. A writer of the first ta-
lents, in the North American Review, a few years since, had the
honour of showing the world, that Bacon deserved the epithets
brightest, wisest of mankind ; but that " meanesf^ was added at
first by wickedness J and perpetuated by one who cared but little
whether the epithet was just or unjust, if he could make the hbel
^ paint a moral, or adcym a tale?^ Bacon treated the law as a
science capable of employing the graces of hterature. After a con-
siderable interval, Blackstone wrote his commentaries, which proved
that the fundamental principles of law might be conveyed, even in
a choice and clear style, without any quaintness, abruptness, or
tedious repetition ; and, like other subjects of less gravity, Lord
Mansfield delivered his opinions in the best phraseology the English
language would permit of in argument or illustration. The law-
yers of our own country were men of learning before the revolu-
tion, but the manner of arguing at the bar, to the court or jury, was
not remarkable for refinement or delicacy. Coarse attacks and
sharp retorts were common between members of the bar ; and the
court either maintained a hard-featured silence, or broke in upon
their sparrings with surly dignity. That gentlemanly courtesy,
which reigns from one part of our coimtry to another, among
judges and advocates, was, for many years, unknown, or thought
improper for a tribunal of justice. Not only the arguments of
counsel, but the opinions of the bench, are now given with some re-
gard to literary taste ; and one not acquainted with law terms, may
read the reports without being offended with a parade of technical
terms or involved sentences. This branch of science is rapidly in-
creasuig ; already we have more than three hundred volumes of
American reports in law and equity ; and, as the present generation
of lawyers must go through such a mass of American law deci-
sions, it is fortunate that some regard has been paid to the style in
which these cases are made up. Some of these opinions might be
selected, which have the freshness and spirit of animated truth con-
veyed in exquisite taste. Facts are not the less forcible, because
they are happily arranged, nor reasonings less convincing, because
they are well expressed. The professional men are trying to dif-
fuse as much intelligence and taste in the community as possible, in
order that a day of purer literature should succeed. Much has been
done, and much more has been planned to be effected hereafter \ the

\..-

116 LECTURES ON

numerous agents are busy, and in concert and harmony, in the
great work of spreading the sciences and literature throughout the
land.

The literature of theology in this country suffered, as well as the
hterature and science of oUier professions, during tiie revolution.
The pulpit rang with patriotism and pohticks, and harangues upon
the good and sound christian duty of fighting for freedom ; all very
excellent lessons for the times, and which certainly had their uses.
After the warning appeals to the brave defenders of the country, it
was dull to go back to detailing the enormities of papal power, or
speaking of the great beast of seven heads and ten horns ; there-
fore his holiness was left quite alone, except now and then in some
good man's form of prayer, from which the epithets of abhorrence
lor Babylon never had been expunged. Dissertations on Antino*
mians, Pdagians, and all the host of sectarians, had begun to grow
•tale, and the doctrines of eternal decrees and predestination were
not so attractive to the new generations as they had been to their
fathers. From all appearances, the timid began to fear that the pul-
pit had lost its legitimate, primitive influences. Under this impres-
sion, many were turned from the study of this profession, who
were intended for it by their parents, and engaged in medicine or
law. At this weak moment, if the defenders of the faith will allow
that there ever were .such moments, infidelity reared its mon-
strous head, and stalked through our part of Christendom with gir-
gantick strides; but, as it has often happened, that which threatened
destruction to the altar and the priest, was the cause of giving new and
lasting honour to both. Infidelity had for years been disseminated by
the philosophers into inquisitive minds, but had never come upoa
us in the form of popular eloquence, and had not reached common
minds engaged in ordinary pursuits, until about the time of the
French revolution ; it now came under the pot^atial form of supe-
riour wisdom, free from the thraldom of error. It dealt out a
strong denial of the great truths of the gospel, and made impu-
dence, with now and then a flash of witty scurrility, pass for com-
mon sense and true reasoning upon the revelations of God to man,
through nature and her laws, and by the inspirations of holy writ.
At first, great shipwreck was made of the faith of thousands ; the
weak were bewildered, and the unlearned entangled. The truly
pious still believed that the church was built upon a rock, and that
the gates of hell should not, finally, prevail against it, yet they were
discouraged at the progress of infidelity, and were cut to the heart
at hearing the authenticity of the scriptures doubted, and the minis*
ters of our holy religion ridiculed m every possible form of con-
tempt ; called by opprobrious epithets ; charged with ignorance and

AMERBCAN LITERATURE. 117

hjTXKjrisy ; and their downfall prophesied with confidence and joy.
For a while there was some confusion in the church, but the purest
men soon roused themselves from idleness, or rather from idle dis-
putes about trifles, or non-essentials, and many of them plunged
into the depths of learning, to answer the falsehoods and sneers of
the scoffers, who laid pretensions to having penetrated into the re-
cesses of oriental literature, and having detected the errours of Chris-
tianity. The contest was animated, and the ministers of light
struggled hard with the ministers of darkness. Great minds en-
tered the contest, and, after a while, the dreams of Condorcet and
the scurrilities of Paine, were swept away together, and infidelity
was first scouted by learning, piety, and taste, and, at length, pro-
scribed by the irresistible power of fashion. The works of Watson
and Tytler, and, towards the close of the struggle, of many others,
were found, not only in the hands of the polemick, or in the library
of the speculative, but on the toilets of the fair, with the last work
of the imagination from Southey or Campbell ; for the ecclesiastical
writers had added to the science of theology the most sublime of
all contemplations, the charms of literature and taste. The reading
and thinking part of the community were delighted to witness the
commencement of a new era m the rhetorick, eloquence, and logick
of the pulpit; useless divisions and subdivisions, and their scholastick
divinity, with loose and spongy declamation, gave place to fair, in-
ductions, correct illustrations, and philanthropick views. The wa3rs
of God to man were satisfactorily justified to the understandings of
the mighty in intellect, and to the humble and lowly seekers of the
truth. Religion wore the smile of innocence and the robe of purity,
as she was destined to do from the beginning. The charms of a
delicate and finished literatiure now came from the pulpit, and the
temple of God became, as it ought ever to be, a place of instruction
for the mmd and for the affections, as well as for learning the great
doctrines of salvation.

118 LECTURES ON

LECTURE VIII.

. '' -'

*<The poet grieves to find his page grow scant,
And he must stint the praise of those he loves ;
Nor number half that cluster round his pen."

Among theliteratiof our country, in thedifferent ages of her growth,
may be numbered many eminent physicians, who were not only
useful in their profession, but distinguished for a spirit of inquiry
and a knowledge of letters. At the first settlement of the provinces,
the clergy were the physicians, and often the surgeons of the com-
munity. They practised, in general, without fees, from a religious
belief that they ought not to receive any compensation for their ser-
vices, as what they could do for the body was intimately connected
with the cure of souls. This union of the professions had long
been in use in Europe. The confessors of the convents and monas-
teries had made, in many orders, the healing art a part of their
vows; and after the suppression of the religious houses in England,
by Henry VIII., the clergy still continued the art among the people ;
and, after the reformation was entirely effected, kept up the custom
without any dread from the bulls against the practice of dissection.

The first settlers of Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay, as well as
those of Jamestown, had physicians and surgeons with them. Ga-
ger, an eminent surgeon, came to Charleston in 1630, but soon fell
a victim to what has since been called the spotted fever. He prac-
tised physick as well as surgery. Firmin, a physician and surgeon.
In 1639, was settled at Ipswich, but left the profession for that of
divinity, which was the safest road to distinction in those days.

The skill of the early physicians was speedily put to the test, for,
besides the fevers incident to the hard living of new settlers, the
small-pox and yellow fever were soon brought among them from the
West-Indies ; and, afl«r several years, the " cynanche maligna" baf-
fled all their skill for a time. The measles, often an obstinate dis-
ease, was constantly among the new settlements. The yellow fever,
which we now trust has left for ever most of our cities, prevailed, in
its most malignant form, in Charleston, South Caroliiaa, in 1^,
1703, 1732, 1739, 1740, 1745, 1748; and Dr. Harris says it was
there in 1761 and 1764. This fever prevailed in Philadelphia in
1741, 1747, 1762, and 1793 ; in New-York in 1792, 1798, and several
times since. Hutchenson says, that, as early as 1693, it was preya*

\- ^ I

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 110

lent in Boston. It came from the West-Indies in the fleet of Sir
Francis Wheeler, which was sent from that station to join the New-
England forces, destined against Quebeck. This fleet lost 1300
sailors out of 2100, and 1800 soldiers out of 2400. Previous to this
period, a disease swept through the country in 1647 ; its precise
character has never been known ; the Indians fell victuns to it, as
well as the European colonists ; and m 1655 it was nearly as exten- ' ^' f

sive and fatal. The small-pox was a great scourge ; it prevailed in ' • *-

Boston in 1689, 1702, 1721, 1730, 1752, 1764, 1776, and m 1792 ; and
the probability is, that it was as frequent in other cities. We state
these facts, to show that there were constantly subjects for the inqui-
ries of the medical mind; and as early as 1647, Thomas Thatcher,
of Weymouth, in Massachusetts, turned his attention to the subjects
of diseases, and wrote a treatise on the small-pox and measles, call-
ed " a brief guide in the small-pox and measles." He was a great
man, learned as a mathematician, and a practical mechanick, whose
inventive genius was equal to his scientifick acquirements. He was
also a profound oriental scholar, and had explored all the wisdom
of the East in the healing art. This treatise of Thatcher's was pro-"l
bably the first book written in this country, upon any of the diseases > j-
incident to it. This eminent physician, scholar, and divine, died at
the age of fifty-eight ; a greater man than whom, this country has
not since produced. At this time, some of the physicians educated
abroad, attracted by the novelty of a new country, or dissatisfied
with the old world, came among our ancestors to difiiise their in-
formation, and to find new sources of knowledge. Robert Child,
educated at the university of Padua, came to Massachusetts as early
as 1646. The name of this physician was connected with an at-
tempt made to difiiise a spirit of religious toleration, which received
the censures of the magistrates, but which may form his eulogium
now, however severe they were thought to be at that time. The
next physician and surgeon of note in our annals, is Gershom Bulk-
ley, of Connecticut, son of the learned Mr. Bulkley, of Concord, in
Massachusetts. He was a clergyman ; in Philip's war of 1676, was
appointed surgeon to the Connecticut troops, and such was the
confidence of the legislature m his abilities, that he was made, by
their order, one of the council of war.

The next publication from a professor of medicine, that I can
find, but probably my researches may not have been so thorough
on this subject as on some other subjects, was one of Dr. Douglass'
on the small-pox, whose character I have sketched in a former lec-
ture. He was opposed to inoculation, and ridiculed Boyleston,
who was. there in 1721, introducing the practice of it This pro-
voked Boyleston to a defence. Cotton Mather had his share in tho

12© LECTURES ON

dispute ; he was in favour of the practice. At this time, Nathaniel
Williams, a clergjrman, a schoolmaster, successor to old master
Cheever, and a distinguished physician also, being a good-natured
man, wrote a humourous dialogue upon this dispute, entitled "Mun-
dungus, Sawney, Academicus, a debate ;" these names glanced at
the diflerent characters who had been distinguished in the dispute;
and it is said to contain the arguments on both sides of the question,
as far as facts had then developed principles. The old physician«
spoke of this work with great respect Williams was a man of such
benovolfince and sinoerity, that in that day of gratuitous epithets, he
was called '' the beloved physician.'' The next work was a treatise
on pharmacy, by Thomas Harwood, a good medical writer of some
eminence. This work was published in 1732. In 1740, Dr. Thomas
Cadwallader published an essay on the " Iliack Passion," which gave
him great celebrity in this country and in England. In 1745, he
published some medical papers in the '^ Royal Transactions, Lon-
don." This was the mode pursued by eminent physicians in this
country ; for the fact of appearing in such a publication, vras suffi-
cient to ensure the attention of the pubhck, or that part of it one
would wisih to attract Dr. Cadwallader vras one of the first profes-
sors in the medical art, who, in this country, taught his pupils from
hospital practice ; being one of the visiting physicians in the Phila-
delphia hospital, which was founded in 1752.

Previously, the subject of plants had attracted the attentimi of
men fond of pursumg nature in " the herb and flower." Mark Cates-
by had the honour of beuig among the first engaged in this pur*
suit in this country. He was sagacious and indefatigable, but his
works are far inferior to Cla)rton's Flora Virginiana. The history of
the labours of this great botanical work is very singular. The art
of printing and engraving in this country, would not admit of print-
ing a flora here ; he therefore sent his production to Leyden, to pro-
fessor Gronovius, who published it in several editions ; the first of
them in 1739, the second m 1743, the third in 1762. Clayton began
this work in 1705, when the forests were extensive, and when the
lily of the valley and the mountaui daisy breathed their firagrance
on the same gale. Dudley and Douglass, whom we have named
before, were at the same time engaged in the same pursuit. Clay-
ton's descriptions of the plants he collected are remarkable for
neatness and accuracy, and often beautiful and elegant It is a
fact worthy of notice, that some of the finest descriptions to be
found any where, are m the works of naturalists and botanists.
Some descriptions of plants by Linnaeus, Danvin, and their fellow^
labourers in the garden of nature, are models of beauty; and what

AAfERICAN LITERATURE. 121

can surpass in splendour BuiSbn's descriptioa of the horse, the pea-
cock, and the eagle? / i ri

Every part of our country puts in just claims for distinction in t '^ •*■
themedicalprofession; DoctorWilliamBall,ofSouthCarolina,who i^^^. i ,
vns a graduate Of Harvard college, defended a medical thesis,
with ability, at Leyden, in 1734. He was for many years eminent
in his native state. Doctors Thomas Bond, and Middleton, made the
first publick dissection, in 1750. This was done by leave of a court
of law. Josiah Bartlett, of Exeter, New-Hampshire, wrote on the
^ C3manche maligna," which had been prevalent in New-England ;
and John Jones wrote at the commencement of the revolutionary
war, a treatise " on wounds and fractures," for the use of the army.
I have collected these facts, with many others that I shall not trouUe
you with, respecting the medical faculty, simply to show that this
profession has had its share in the literature of our country. Within
the half century, it is well known that in Europe and this country,
they have raised the standcurd of the profession, by banishing, as fyr
as possible, all emp}nricism from their borders. This is a profession
in which ignorance has heretofore so often hid h^'self^ and gulled
the world by pretensions, that the satirists have in every age, poured
out upon it their surcharged vials of wrath ; but the historian now
sharpens his pen to write their praise. Hippocrates describes a i
quack, as a being '^ no laws could reach, and no ignominy disgrace." I
The medical profession has often wisely resorted to letters for im-
mortality. It is not the cure, but the record of it only, that we can
see. To prove the altitude of the medical character in our country,
we need only look to the earliest medical school in America. When,
in 1768, a medical college was established at Philadelphia, what a
cluster of distinguished men were collected to give it popularity.
Shippen, CadwaUader, and a host of others, were ready and active
ministers of science to diftiise its advantages. " A good physician"
(says the scriptures) is firom the Lord ; and to continue the oriental
phraseology — a Hospital well regulated, and bountifully endowed
to heal the maladies of the mind and body, may be said to be a per"
petual lamp of life in the temple of nature ; and those whose duty
it is to watch, should never slumber or sleep on their posts.

At the time of the revolution, there were a goodly ntunber of
active men in the profession of medicine, who took a part in the
conflict Warren, Church, Bull, Finch, and others, had taken the
place of Perkins, Cutter, Clarke, and others, in Massachusetts ; and
in other States, there were also many of the physicians who were
an effective and active class of men. They had defects, no doubt, in
their education, for they had many difficulties to ccmtend with, but
none that could not be overcome. Many of them had distinguished

121 LECTURES ON

ihemsdves by their writings in favour of civil liberty, and it was
necessary for them to push forward and take an active part. Some
of them entered the army professionally, and others gave up the
lancet for the sword. Among the officers of the army of the revo-
lution, whose profession had been that of physick, were, Warren,
Mercer, St. Clair, Gadsden, Cobb, Brooks, Bricket ; and who were
braver than they ? In pohtical life, the profession has been conspi-
cuous ; before the adoption of the federal constitution, the profession
could number some of the first men in Congress from their body.
And since the constitution has been in operation, there have been also
many of distinction in publick life. As orators, there has been no
small share of eloquence among them. This has been proved in
the halls of legislation often, but more often, and more happily, in
the lecture room ; there the subjects are neither artificial nor con-
ventional, but natural, and nature makes her votaries eloquent.

As poets as well as warriors, the medical faculty has been distin-
guished. We have, in our account of American poets, mentioned
Hopkins, Church, Warren, Ladd, Bryant, Shaw, Boyd, Percival, and
other bards, who, while they plucked the misletoe as Druids, ana-
lysed, as chemists and philosophers, the nut gall of the same oak on
which the parasite had grown. It is impossible to mention all in a
short course of lectures; but I cannot pass over some names
without paying a tribute to their virtues, if it be only in a hasty breath.
'Jn every great enterprise, more depends upon the character of the
'few who zealously engage in it, than upon the many, who may take
cursory and imperfect views of it, and with only faint motives for
Jts prosperity. It was fortunate, that such a man as Rush should
have been found at the close of the revolution, to assist in building
up an American school of medicine. He was fitted for the task.
His temperament was ardent, and his feelings enthusiastick ; he
had the rare faculty of communicating this enthusiasm to others j
and his pupils pursued their inquiries with an impetus, derived from
him, which carried them rapidly and pleasantly through the laby-
rinths of science. His eloquence, his arguments, and his love of
labour, did much to break the speU which hung over the profession,
" that no man could be qvLolified for a professor, in any of the
branches of medicine, who had not been in a foreign schooV^ He
taught that nature was the same in every country, and that when
she was properly interrogated, her responses would be the same at
all times.

The medical school at New-York has had a share of the intel-
ligence of the country in every stage of its growth ; James, Middle-
ton, and others, distinguished in their day, have been succeeded by
men of science and letters.

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 133

The medical school of Harvard University, was in contemplation
for many years, and liberal donations had been made for the purpose
of its establishment, but the situation of the country forbade its com- o'l. ^

mencement until 1782. Doctor John Warren, brother of (Jeneral rf t^^ ^^
"Warren who fell at Bunkerhill, ardent in his patriotism as any man
that ever lived, who entered the army as a common soldier after the
death of his brother, probably from the strong excitement at this
event, and continued in it as a surgeon for several years, was at
the head of this school. He had at this time left the army and
settled in Boston, in his profession, among his brother's friends, and
had before 1782 delivered a course of lectures on anatomy. The
students of Harvard University had an opportunity of attending
them. When the school was opened at Cambridge within the col-
lege walls, Warren was put at the head of the newly established in-
stitution, and Doctors Dexter and Waterhouse were also appointed
prof^sors. Doctor Warren was well qualified for this important
situation ; he had genius, patience, industry, and eloquence, and all
were required for the commencement of such a school. He secured
the understanding of his hearers, while he charmed their imagina-
tions, and without a struggle he led them through the course of his
lectures with pleasure, admiration, and profit. The army had been
a good school for him, for there he had witnessed the diseases of
camps and the wounds of battles, and no lesson was lost on such a
mind. He, like Rush, had the faculty of inspiring his pupils with
love, confidence, and adnuration, and, at the same time, with an
ardent passion to excel in their profession. The influence of his ex-
ample was more powerful than his precepts, in teaching the many
axioms he wished to inculcate. Independent of his professional
fame, he has left some excellent specimens of his taste and talents as
a classical writer. He has left a son who is among the first of his
profession, and who does great credit to the advantages which his
father gave him, and who, by his attention to the progress of know-
ledge, has quartered new honours on his arms as a professional man.

The medical school of Dartmouth College was the fourth institu-
tion of the kind which was founded in this country. In 1798, Dr.
Nathan Smith was appointed sole professor, and for many years
lectured on all the usual branches of medicine taught in a course of
medical instruction. This was indeed a Herculean task, but he met
it manftdly, passing from one subject to another with astonishing
ease. His labours were often embarrassed by the cavils of the sus-
picious and envious ; but he marched on, in the dignity of conscious
genius, and conquered a prejudice at every step. He, too, had a
spice of that enthusiasm which distinguished his great predecessors
and coadjutors in the task of building up the schools of medicine.

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128 LECTURES ON

trho seems to have the power and favour of the God op Israel
vouchsafed to him, to stay the course of time, and to say, " Sun,
stand ihou still upon Gibeon; and thou, moon^ in the valley of Aja^
Ion," until reason, religion, and philosophy, have avenged themselves
on their enemies.

In quitting this class of intelligent men, we pass to that of our
historians, particularly those who have written since the revolution,
as we have mentioned those who wrote before that time ; like all
others, this class has various claims to distinction ; most of them
have shown some industry in collecting materials, and some few of
them talents for arranging them, and giving them in a proper dress
to the publick. We will take them as they come to our recollec-
tion, without regard to the order of the time in which they were
written.

Belknap's history of New-Hampshire, Is a wdl written work;
the author was a good scholar, a man of great honesty and generous
feelings ; as well educated for an historian as any one who has ever
undertaken the task in this country. His materials were scanty, and
scattered over a thinly settled territory ; one half of what was to be
said was in tradition, and the other on scanty records ; but the nar-
rations were honest and the records true ; and by the help of a tho-
rough knowledge of the people, and an intimate acquaintance with
contemporaneous records, he was enabled to get at the truth, and
nearly the whole truth ; but although his history is of a high order,
we think that his biographical works are better than his history or
his sermons, which have been for many years highly valued. Those
who knew this amiable and accomplidied writer, will hardly hear
a criticism upon his works ; for the sweetness of his disposition, and
the blandishments of his manners, went much farther in the estima-
tion of his character than the elegance of his pen.

The history of Maine, by Sullivan, is the ground work for a future
history of that growing state. Sullivan was a man of genius and
research; but was too much employed as a politician and a lawyer,
to devote much time to literary labours ; but if he did not find time
to give a finishing touch to his history of that province, the publick
are much indebted for that which he did write.

The history of Massachusetts has been more fully written than
that of any other province. It was the theatre of important events,
and the nursery of many other settlements in New-England, and
in the latter period of more distant places. After the historians we
have already mentioned, come Hubbard's History, Church's Indian
Wars, and historical sketches of a smaller kind. There are many
well written historical works of particular periods, such as Minott's,
Bradford's, and others. Morse and Parish have written a school

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 127

book history of New-England, and Hannah Adams has published
a Yery neat and accurate compendium of New-England history.
When the historian shall appear to write a full account of us,
there will be found many excellent materials in the collections of
the Massachusetts historical society. It is a subject of congratula-
tion, that other states are following the example of Massachusetts,
and rescuing from oblivion valuable facts for the future historians of
our country. Our activity cannot be too great, for every hour as it j
passes shrouds some circumstance in obscurity, and the grave- }
digger, time, is always busy in burying the deeds as well as the gene- '
rations of man.

The history of Vermont has been written by Professor Williams^
and no one will say that he has not made the most of the scanty
materials he had for his work. When he wrote, the state was in its
infancy. It would be well now to continue this history ; for the
rapid growth of that portion of our country, in population, wealth,
and intelligence, has made its history a subject of interest and in-
quiry.

The history of Rhode Island has not yet been fully written. The
great father of toleration in this country, Roger Williams, made that
state, as is well known, an asylum for iJiose disturbed by the narrow
views and bigoted feelings of other states. This great philanthro-
pist, R. Williams, wrote a valuable treatise upon the language, man-
ners, and customs of the Indians in his vicinity, which, after having
been locked up for ages in some library in England, has at length
reached us as a matter of information and curiosity. The Rev. Mr.
Callender published a curious sermon, which, when enlarged, made
a very excellent historical sketch of Rhode Island, for the time.
And the Hon. Mr. Hunter, in a fourth of July oration, favoured the
publick with some vivid sketches of their revolutionary history ; but
it remains for his pen, or that of some other intelligent Rhode
Islander, to write out her history.

The history of Connecticut has been written with talents and taste,
and perhaps as minutely as was required at the time when Trum-
bull published his work. The old hbraries of the ancient families of
that state must certainly contain matter for a most circumstantial
and minute history of it. The first settlers were of a literary
class. They left Massachusetts to take up their residence on the
Connecticut and the Thames ; and carried their axes on their shoul-
ders, and their ink-horns in their pockets ; and sat down to write a
full journal of their travels through the wilderness, to satisfy the
anxious friends they left at Massachusetts Bay, before they had
finished the log-hut to shelter them from the wind and rain.

Of the history of New-York it may be said, thatwthe historian did

128 LECTURES ON

as much towards making a good history as could be expected from
any one, at the time in which he wrote ; when he had but few aids
from extensive collections of books. The Ihitch history of the co-
lony, if he ever saw it, was probably a sealed book to him, from an
ignorance of the language in which it was written. M'Cullock has
written one lately.

The history of New-Jersey is not sufficiently ftill or particular
to satisfy the age 5— nor can that of Maryland as yet lay greater
claims to distinction. These states have many who can supply all
deficiencies if they will look about.

The history of Virginia has been written at different periods, by
several hands; Smith's, Stith's, and Beverley's, we have already
noticed. Burk and Geradin have continued the subject, and in feet,
have gone over most, or all, of the same ground with their prede-
cessors. Mr. Jefferson's Notes on Virginia, which are partly statis-
tical, as well as historical, are highly valuable to those who wish to
be acquainted with that state. Chief Justice Marshall, in his life of
Washington, has done great justice to the history of Virginia. It
has been said of Caesar, tJiat his biography vxls the history of Rcfme
while CtBsar lived; but in the case of Washington, the biographer
found it necessary for his subject to write nearly the whole history
of his country ; this is a great work ; it has nothing in it of thie
splendour of Robertson, the grandiloquence of Gibbon, or tfie
sweetness of Goldsmith ; but it is a monument of stability — a P3rra-
mid of granite, of majestiek dimensions, that will stand in the waste
of time on the frontiers of our history ; but ages may pass away be-
fore the merits of this great mental labour will be justly appreciated.

The history of South Carolma is from the pen of Dr. Ramsay.
The bare mention of this fact is sufficient assurance of its excellence. »
Dr. Ramm^ possessed, in an eminent degree, the qualifications of an
historian^leaming, memory, research, readiness, a love of labour,
with an easy, elegant style of composition, and a mind naturally
active and free from prejudices. The history of the American war
from his hand is, in sdl things considered, the best for general use
extant He lived in the time in which he wrote ; " all of which he
saw, and a part of which he was," may be said of him, in connexion
with the events of that period. He had means which other historians
did not enjoy, an intimate acquaintance with the principal actors in
the scenes he describes. After he had written his history, the manu-
script was read to those capable of judging of its correctness ; and
of course, any errours of time or curcumstance were detected and
corrected. This historian did not stop at the revolutionary war, but
gave his country an account of her history from the earliest settle-
ments j and then a succinct universal history, most happily con-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 129

densed. Of late years, Prentis, Hale, and others, have written
succmct histories of the United States, which are of a respectable
character. That from the pen of Mr. Hale received a premium from
some historical society, for its superiority over others as adapted to
youths.

The productions of our theologians, perhaps, have not been so nu-
merous as in former times ; but those sermons and polemick dis-
cussions which we have had of late, are marked with high charac-
teristicks of mind and taste. Emmons, Dwight, Freeman, Buck-
minster, Griffin, and many others, evince deep erudition and evan-
gelical piety ; and the controversial writings of Channing, Stewart,
and others, who have lately been engaged in the unitarian and trini-
tarian controversy, have discovered that biblical literature is a fa-
vourite study among the clergy of the present day, and that they
have pushed their examinations into other times, and made them-
selves masters of ancient lore. If some are grieved, all are in-
structed, and a free inquiry cannot in the end be useless. Irreve-
rential inquisitiveness is a species of profanity, but a holy wrestling
with God to obtain the dispositions of his nature, and the determi-
nations of his will, is the amount of what is called the study of
theology, which is at once the prerogative and the duty of intc^ec-
. tual beings. We have now in this country more than seven thousand..
' teachers of divinity, who form the upper class of instructors in this j ^^
community. If these are enlightened as they should be, we caa^
not perish for lack of vision.

In the biographical department of literature, we have had several
writers of talents, who have as patiently as possible, when we con-
sider the scanty remuneration they generally receive, collected facts
for the purpose of illustrating the lives of some of our distinguished
men : Belknap, Elliott, Allen, Hardie, and several others, have pub- s
lished their collections, much to the advantage of the commu- >
nity, Belknap was a smooth Addisonian writer of great sincerity
and faithfulness, without a single particle of bitterness in his na-
ture. He wrote his faithful chronicles with an admiration of the
great discoverers and settlers of this country ; but he had no motive
to make them other than they were. These hves are not so much
known and read as they would have been, if they had come from
some ordinary novelist, and had been portraits of fictitious person-
ages.

EUiott was a great antiquarian, and a very honest man ; he had
treasured up a great many facts, and knew all the traditions of his
country ; but he knew but Uttle of book-making, and, in truth, paid
but little attention to the style of his sketches. Dr. Elliott was es-
teemed, among his literary friends, as a most admirable antiquarian

/ .■■

s..

> 'if> I V

■'" - - ' : r- .'.-••/ . X.. / f i

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130 LECTURES ON

and a fair-minded critick ; and his volume of biography, although
carelessly written, and more carelessly printed, will do honour to his
memory, and will be in the hands of all who wish to know any
thing of the character of the early worthies of New-England. Allen
was educated in modem times, and had a more extensive acquaint-
ance with facts than most biographers. He was patient of labour,
and collected his facts, and wrote his commentaries upon events, and
sketched his traits of character, while a hbrarian of Cambridge uni-
versity, with the best library on American history and American
biography in the world, at his full command. It is said, that the
publick are soon to be favoured with a new edition of this work; we
hope they will not be disappointed. His whole hfe has been devoted
to literary pursuits or to literary duties, and there are but few more
capable of doing justice to the mighty dead of our country than
President Allen, of Maine.

^^ •) One of the most valuable among American books is Holmes's

Annals. In its first editions it was a very correct chronicle of suc-
cessive events, but the last edition is enriched by biographical no-
tices and pertinent remarks, and is not only history in itself, but a
manual for future historians. Dr. Holmes is a profound antiqua-
rian and a sound scholar, and is happy in living to find his labours
duly appreciated.

The nine volumes of the lives of the signers of the declaration of
independence, contain no small share of fine writing. These pro-
'^ ductions are from different hands and of unequal excellence. It is

^ ' well to have an opportunity of seeing these worthies at one view,

^ ~* and to be able, as it were, to enter the venerable group ; but as the
writers were necessarily confined to one signal period of time, that
certainly a very eventful one, the information conveyed by the pe-
rusal of the whole is not, of course, so great nor so diversified as it
would have been had the writers been engaged in the biography of
the great men of our country who had Uved in different epochs of
our history.

, J /• . W® hAve some exquisite morsels of single biographical sketches j

': . , ^ Kirkland's Life of Ames is a miniature of admirable workmanship.

'' ;- V ^, The shades are so disposed of as to give relief to the prominent fea-
> -, -^ tures ; the true evidence of a master's work. Thatcher's memoir of
Buckminster is of the same class, and, perhaps, superior in finish
if not in conception ; and Greenwood's obituary notice of Thatcher
has something of a kindred spirit in it.
Several writers have given the publick the life of Washington, and
,^ y^ . ^ some of them are felicitous compositions. Dr. Bancroft's, of Wor-
/ cester, in Massachusetts, is one of those which will be read with in-

terest in future days, as it is now. The Doctor has published a

../

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 131

volume of sermons of much merit. The work is remarkable
for liberality of sentiment, purity of style, and for strong direct
reasoning on difficult matters of belief. There is something re-
freshing in his candid, bold, and pleasant manner of treating his
subject, and you are satisfied with the writer, even when you refuse
to become a convert to his argument. Whatever comes from the
pen of this venerable philanthropist and christian, is finely marked
with delicate and discriminating touches. ' ^

It is difficult to speak, at the present time, of Mr. Adams' Leo- » V ^'^ ' ■
tures on Rhetorick. As an orator and statesmen, his fame is in ^4 ^ ' , , ,
every court. For more than forty years he has been known to the ^ ^
republick of letters as a splendid scholar. With his political life we 7C «.v. w d
have nothing to do here; but we venture to predict, that, when -^

these lectures are read hereafter, free from those prejudices or par-
tialities which are almost necessarily incorporated with oar opinions
of the works of living politicians, that they will add to the honour
of American literature ; and, if not considered as faultless in styles
will be ranked among the most vigorous efforts of American ge-
nius and learning.

Pitkin's political and civil history of the United States is a valuar
ble woiic. The writer has laboured more to show causes and to ^

develope principles, than to round periods and polish metaphors.
He came to his work with much knowledge of our history, and a
sound discriminating judgement. The practical politician should be
thoroughly master of the contents of these volumes. There is a
deplorable ignoranceofconstitutionalhistory among us. Itshoiddnqt \''
be so. We have had frequent occasions, in the course of these lec-
tures, to speak of medical works, and of the medical mind in our
country, with great respect. They deserve it. The journals of thai
profession, though more directly belonging to scientifickand profes-
sional knowledge than to general Uteratiire, are of a high- literary
grade. The writers in these periodicals have certainly acquired thfe
art or mystery, for it partakes of both, of preserving uninteresting,
and even revolting facts, if seen too nakedly, in the beauties of lan-
guage and the charms of style. They have perfumed and cleansed
the lazar-house ; ornamented the cinerary urn, and so tastefully
sculptured the sarcophagi, that one of delicate nerves may walk
among the ravings of disease and the victims of death, and reason
upon the phenomena without disgust or terrour. Of this character
is the work of Dr. Beck, of Albany, on Medical Jurisprrudence,
It was the first work on that subject that issued from the American
press. The order pursued is natural, the style is easy, and the
facts appear to have been cautiously examined, and the inferences
from them fairly drawn ; and the illustrations are generally happy.

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182 LECTURES ON

This work should be found in every lawyer's library. There has
been many a victim, innocent of crime, sacrificed to an ignorance
of the science of medical jurisprudence. Their blood must rest
somewhere.

The life of Fulton, by Golden, is much esteemed, and comes
timely to ward off many criticisms upon the course Fulton had
pursued.

Judge Johnson's life of Green, is a work of research and extent;
but it has not suited all tastes. Perhaps too much was expected from
the circumstance of official elevation.

Brown's life of Dr. Linn, is superiour to most writings of the kind.
Brown excelled in drawing characters, and his subject was full of
romantic beauty. The melancholy of the mind and imagination of
both Brown and Lum is slightly incorporated in the colouring of
the picture. The light falls upon it as passing through the pamted
glass of a gothick window into the chancel of a monastery, throwing
a religious solemnity over the group of the painting, and the artist,
and aU the scene around them.
■ DuNLAP's LIFE OF Browk, is a very fair and honest narrative of

^^ the events in the life of the American novelist and sentimental wri-
ter ; who laboured, and suffered, and died, without receiving from
his countrymen the rewards he deserved. Dunlap is a man of
genius as a painter, as well as a writer, and second to but few in
either profession.

We claim Washington Irving as one of our literati ; and are proud
/ / , , ■ to rank him among the first of our authors. He began his literary

career here, and for many years was a contributor to our best peri-
odical journals. He left this country with a high reputation as a
nan of taste and talents, and with the affection and respect of the
first circles among us; but in Europe he has more widely extended
his fame, by his sketch book, and other works. His tales abound in
deep interest, his plots are finely conceived, and his descriptions feli-
eitous. His delineations of characterare justand striking; and every
article from his pen has some fine touches of the pathetick ; in this he is
singularly successful. His language is choice, good, pure old Eng-
lish; and his style is polished with the most exquisite care. He
was not, however, satisfied by resting his fame on these works, but
looked around him for some unoccupied portion of history on which
to seize for a lasting work ; but at length most wisely took an old
subject, but one which will never be exhausted — the life and ad- •
ventures of Christopher Columbus. This subject contamed incidents
already related, sufficient in his hands for the purposes of making a
most entertaining and instructive work; and these were at his com-
mand without going out of his library for them ; but he was not

AMERICAN UTERATURE. laS

content to rely on any garnishments of this subject for reputation,
but added the results of long and assiduous research to new philo-
sophical views, and more minute incidents. Fired with his theme,
he sought the fountains for information, and drew his knowledge
from them, all pure and fresh for his uses. The national archives
of Spain, so long shut up from the world, were opened to him ; and
the family papers of Columbus, that had been preserved with great
care, were now thoroughly examined. His success has fully justi-
fied his devotion to the cause. This was precisely such a subject as
should have engaged the attention of such a mind. Poetry and
fiction had nothing more splendid to offer, nor history to hold up,
for the contemplation of man, than the life of Columbus ; there was
enough of vicissitude, of glory, of heart-ache, of degradation, of
apotheosis, to have suited an epick bard, or an oriental enthusiast.
Had the great discoverer been " wrapt into future times," as poets
have imagined him to have been, one of the most delightful visions
he could have had, would l^ave been a sight of his own great his-
torian. Not a misery o/ his existence could now be spared by his
biographer, for they were all wanted to finish so noble a character.
Who is there now so dull as would wish to find that all the troubles
of Columbus* w^ere fictitious; and that, full-fed with wealth, and
overload<^ with honours, he had sunk to " the vulvar level of the
greaXf^ and had passed the last of his days in the stately magnifi-
cence of a Spanish grandee ? Not one ; his chams, his dungeon, his
death, his obscure grave, are all sacred appendages to his fame ; nor
were his honours and his virtues to shine in that age of superstition
and ignorance ; three centuries, in the course of time, were required
to bring forth a historian for him ; for it was a decree of fate, that
the events of the life of the discoverer of the new world, shoidd be
fully written by one who should arise in it.

Dr. Thatcher, author of a medical work, and a military journal ^"^.l^
of considerable celebrity, has published " The Biography of American
Physicians :" — the preface, containing a succinct history of the me-
dical profession, is learned and interesting ; and the lives are writ-
ten with great fairness, with fraternal feeling, and discover touches
of discrimination and literary taste; and from the sources from
whence the Doctor derived his information, and the pains he has
taken to compose and correct whatever he had gathered, there can
be no doubt of its being the most authentick of all our works on
American biography. The Doctor did not begin this work until
well advanced in years ; and of course had a very extensive acquaint-
ance with distinguished men in his profession. The work is a
valuable addition to our stock of biography.

Several instructive works, in the form of letters, have appeared
M

134 LECTURES ON

among us from time to time ; one from the pen of Mr. J. Q. Adams
when abroad, to his son in this comitry, which is full of parental
tenderness and valuable instructions and advice ; it ought to be read
by all young men.

Nathaniel H. Carter, who is distinguished among our scholars for
delicacy, taste, and learning, has favoured the publick with two
volumes of letters, written while on his travels through Europe, full
of brilliant observations, classical allusions, and neat, graphick de-
scriptions. Few volumes have given so much pleasure and instruc-
tion as these productions. They have a sweet and gentle spirit
running throughout their contents, which, if it adds nothing to the
author's fame at the present moment, will preserve them for future
use, and make them more precious to the reader, when the writer,
with his contemporaries, has passed away. Such works are plea-
sant to read at home, and useful as guides abroad.

The life of Doctor Dwight, prefixed to his sermons, supposed to
be from the pen of his brother, Theodore Dwight, is full of incident,
and well written. Dwight was an excellent subject, and his bio-
grapher was equal to his undertaking. It is more difficult to detail
what may happen in the life of a literary man, than in that of a po-
litician, who is in some measure identified with every passing event.
The history of thought, and of such publications as a literary man
may make from time to time ; or the occurrences of a school, or a
church, or a college, all of which are important to the individual,
and of deep interest to the community in their social and literary
relations, are not easily traced, nor the bearmg of any one circum-
stance distinctly seen ; yet, as a whole, they often make up an im-
portant life — as in the case of the distinguished individual we have
mentioned.

Within a few years past, the literati of the United States, following
up the English, have issued periodicals of great taste and beauty of
execution, under the name of Souvenirs, Tokens, Forget Me Nots^
Talismans, &c. ; which have called forth much of the youthful and
vigorous literature of our country ; and if they cannot be put exactly
in competition with some of those of the same class on the other
side of the water, still they approximate so closely, that in a few
years they may be equal in every respect. It is delightful to look
over these fashionable publications, and find so much fine writing in
them. A gem of prose is followed by a floweret of poesy, in which
sweet descriptions and chaste fancies, give evidence of the improv-
ing state of taste among our scholars. Nor is the honour conferred
on our writers alone ; the artists of our country deservedly share in
it. These objects of luxury have not, like many others, any im-
proper efifect upon the publick mind. The appetite for knowledge

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 135

xnay become dainty by a perpetual feast of good things, but there is
Mio danger of destroying the digestive faculty by pure food, properly
served up. The magazines assmne a tasteful appearance, and the
C5areful printer makes a careful writer.

In one species of hterature we surpass all other countries, that is, ^ . C<

/ *

!> /

Jin our newspapers ; we have more of them, most certainly, than any
€3ther country in the world. The increase has no parallel. The
^irst paper printed in the United States was called the Boston News- / "^ ^
l.etter 5 this appeared on the 24th of April, 1704, at Boston, in Mas-
sachusetts, by B. Green. The second was commenced in 1720, at 2 .
Ihe same place, and called the Boston Grazette, by Samuel Kneeland.
In 1721, the New-England Courant was set up by James Franklin, ^' '
an elder brother of the philosopher. In this printing-office the Doc-
tor began his apprenticeship at an early age. In the course of seven
or eight years several other papers were printed in that town.
The Greens had supported a press at Cambridge, near the college,
from the earliest settlement of the country. Elliott's Indian Bible
was published there in little more than six months after it was
begun.

The first newspaper printed in Philadelphia, was commenced
December 22d, 1719. The first printed in New-York, is dated Oc-
tober 16th, 1725. The first was under the direction of Andrew
Bradford ; and the second was edited and published by William
Bradford. They were relations, and served their apprenticeship in ,,
the same office. The Philadelphia paper was called " The American . .. ,?»
Weekly Mercury," and that of New-York, "The New-York Gar ^ /m^ v.. »,
zette." 'fhe Rhode Island Gazette was set up by James Franklin,
in October, 1732. The first in Connecticut, by James Parker, in "' ^' ''''
1755. The first in New-Hampshire, by Daniel Fowle, in 1756. It .'' • -^ ' -'^^ '
is somewhat surprising that a paper should not have before this j y /^ . •
time been established at Portsmouth, ihe principal town in the pro- /
vince ; as it was a favourite harbour for the British naval comman- / V ? '

ders, and a place of fashion and intelligence. And their governor, i, '

at that time, was a splendid officer. In the time of the Boston mas- .. '■ 1

sacre, March 5th, 1770, the statement of facts were to be sent to all ' . ^'

the papers in the American provinces under Great Britain ; which
were calculated to be about five or six and twenty. In eighteen
years after the peace of 1783, there were about one hundred and
eighty. Since that period, a period of twenty-six years, they have
increased to seven hundred at least ; more than one hundred of
them have been established within sixteen months past.

The circulation of these vehicles of information Are truly astonish-
ing. 'More than jfifty millions a year are constantly issued in this
country 3 the cost of which cannot be less th^an two millions of dol-

Ids LECTURES ON

hw annually to the people. In moments of party strife, these sources
of information, it must be confessed, are often tinged with i>arty
rancour, and in some instances polluted by slander and falsehood ;
but in general they diffuse information of all sorts to the community,
and make up a considerable share in that general knowledge which
our busy people possess, after having obtained the general elements
in the conunon schools of the country.

Until lately, periodical journals were not so successful as news-
papers among the good people of this country. The first published
in the provinces, was m the year 1741, by Benjamin Franklin, then
of Philadelphia, just ten years after Edward Cave, of London, comr
menced the GentlemarCs Magazine, The English publication has
continued until this time ; but the American was soon discontinued.
Franklin knew that such a work was wanted in the country, and he
thought that he would try it, at that early date ; but it was in ad-
vance of the age.

After the peace of 1783, there were several magazines started in
different sections of the country, in New-York, Boston, and Phila-
delphia, and flourished for some time with considerable success.
Some of them are read with great pleasure at the present day.
Matthew Carey, and his associates, pubhshed the Museum, a reposi-
0- ;' tory of hterature, which flourished until the whole amount^ to

several large volumes. This was commenced in 1787, and contained
the productions of Trumbull, Humphrey, and Dr. Ladd, with many
other solutions of prose and verse. This work did not expire for
want of patronage, but ceased because the publishers found better
business. New-York and Boston have supported a review in some
shape or other ever since 1790. There were many well written
pieces in these works ; but the business of reviewing had not then
assumed its shape, and form, and power, which it has since. The
writere touched with a faltering hand upon the erroiu^ of others j
but their general course was to pass in silence those they did not
like in sentiment or manner. A bolder hand was soon tried, and
the publick supported freedom and vivacity in discussing the merits
of authors; but this privilege has, since that period, often degene^
rated into dogmatism and censoriousness.
About the year 1801, the Port Folio was commenced by Joseph
•X\[,rrv ■ Jennie, in the city of Philadelphia. He had been known as the
^ ' , editor of a piquant and tasteful paper in the interiour of New-Eng-
t <; ' ^ i- land, on the banks of the Connecticut river. He was then in a circle
of wits, who threw their productions on the winds with careless
profusion. Royal Tyler, long known as the Bonnel Thornton of
America, who wrote that which the muses sometimes inspired in
the shades of the evening, and blushed to acknowledge at the light

//
/

3 •-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 187

of the morning sun, was one of the number. Dennie was free, easy,
and readily excited to a stretch of thought, and latitude of expression,
pardonable only, if ever, at the " noctes casntBque Deum ;" but his feel-
ings were naturally pure and sincere ; and if, for a moment, his mind,
like the cloth made of the asbestos, received a stain by contiguity with
impurity, the blaze of his genius, like the operation of fire upon the
imperishable texture of the web, burnt it all pure again at its first
kindling up. If Dennie had not that intellectual vigour which
crushes to obtain an essence, or dissolves to Sevelope a principle ;
he had judgement and taste to arrange a sentence and to polish a
period. His imagination was rich and excursive ; it knew no thral-
dom, and spumed at all narrow boimds. He had that which the
country wanted more than any thing else, a refined taste. The
Port Folio was then in full circulation ; and this, more than any
other work in the country, had an influence on the style of writing,
in our seminaries of learning. The young aspirants for fame saw
how much the writings of Dennie were read, and they imitated him
in their productions. This was fortunate. It is better for youths
to emulate the flexible motions of the dancing master, to give grace
and ease to their movements, than to practise the measured steps
and stately demeanour of the knight in armour, before they have
bone and muscle for the fight. Modem education, it may be said,
has found a happy mean, or rather, has taught us how to unite both.
Dennie did not live many years to continue his work. Since that
period the Port Folio has fallen into other hands ; and although it
has frequently exhibited talent, yet it has lost its relative standing i c »"»
in the republick of letters. In 1802, the Anthology was established
at Boston. It had a very considerable character from its commence-
ment. It was often interesting, and sometimes learned ; at times it/ (
assumed a consequential air and manner ; but it cannot be said that
it had as much weight as a leading journal ought to have had in the
country at that time. It took another shape, and a milder character,
in the North American Review, and has since been a well conducted
journal; many times rivaling the first works of European fame; /;\-, i ^C* '
and if an imitation, in some degree, of the Edinburgh, it has no ser-
vility of thought or tone. The Edinburgh was the first of this class
of works which are now so popular; and without which the literary
world would be at a loss to fix on a course of reading to keep up
with the literature of the day. The Edinburgh Review began its
course as Hercules did his labours, not exactly when he was most
wanted, but when his prowess could be most distinctly seen, and
noted. The Edinburgh Reviewers course every field of literature,
ancient or modem, often-times merely to show their speed and bot-
tom. They come upon the literati as their conquerors and proteo-
M2 18

'A.

f 'J.

. *^ r-.

188 LECTUREi3 ON

tors ; and if they deny the divine right of kings in political govern-
ments, they assume the office of perpetual dictators in the commu-
nity of letters. When they conmienced their labours, the literary
world was indeed overrun with monsters ; and they laid aside the
sword and the spear, and pursued their prey with club and blun-
derbuss, from jungle to crag, regardless of trespassing on rice-
ground or cane-patch ; but it must be acknowledged that they did
more; ^oo<l than mischief in their sport. Tlie Quarterly followed
with as much ferocity, but not with more power, and our comitry
became the object of their direst vengeance. They saw us rising
rapidly in the scale of nations, and thought it wise, prudent, and,
probably, fair in politicks, to check our growth. They had no con-
trol over the progress of population, none over the increase of
wealth, which was greater than they could imagine, or understand.
Nothing was left but to attack our institutions, or manners and
hahits ; and this was done with rancour and profligacy, and without
regard to truth. They seized upon wortliless tales of travellers,
who wrote solely for the purpose of furnishing food for the cormo-
rant appetites of these haters of America ; the writers knowing that
by such means they would be favourably noticed by the Reviewers,
and of course their trash would find a ready market. Part of the
people of England were with them from ancient prejudices, a part
opposed to them from information and principle ; but a still greater
part were ignorant of the true state of facts. This evil was only for
a season ; and instead of disgracing our country, as the Reviewers
intended, they raised up a host of able vindicators of American mind
and literature, which they little expected. Dwight, sensitive upon
this subject, came out in our defence with spirit and effect. And
Walsh, a name identified with our literature, appealed to the com-
mon sense of the nations who knew us, and manfully repelled the
coarse and wicked assaults which had been made upon us. Others,
too, were engaged to repel these vile slanders. Much was felt, much
was said and written upon the subject at home, and a reaction took
place abroad ; and in no place was this reaction greater Ihan in Eng-
land. Our novels, which had not gone farther than a second edition
here, tJiere passed through several editions with great eclat. Brown,
whose grave could hardly be traced by us, was there ranked among
the finest writers of fiction that any ageornation had produced. There
are still a few traces of this malignity left, as may be seen in the mi-
serable libel of De Roos, and a slight disposition to keep it alive, as
seen in the patronage given him by the British admiralty ; but no
matter for that, this prejudice is, we pronounce, nearly over and
gone. The literature of our country is increasing with a most as-
tonishing rapidity ; and knowledge is pouring upon us in its lesser

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 139

and greater streams from all parts of the land ; besides weekly and
monthly magazines, which are profusely scattered throughout all
our territories, we have several journals in medicine and law j and
six established quarterly reviews, extensively read, and well sup-
ported. The editors of these quarterly works are pursuing a wise
course, in repelling the attacks which have been made upon our
literature, rather by exhibiting fine specimens of thought and taste
in composition, than by retort and vituperation.

LECTURE IX.

Tis not the chime and flow of words, that moTe

In measured file, and metrical array ;

'Tis not the unicm of returning sounds^

Nor all the pleasing artifice of rhyme,

And quantity, and accent, that can give

This all-pervading spirit to the ear.

Or blend it with the movings of the soul ;

'Tis a mysterious feeling, which combines

Man with the world aroimd him in a chain

Woven of flowers, and dipped in sweetness, till

He taste the high communion of his thoughts,

With all existences, in earth and heaven,

That meet him in the charm of grace and power.

Pebcival.

In order to have a fair view of American poetry, we must go up
to the springs from whence it flowed. Poetry is natural to man.
It is a sympathy of the human mind with the invisible world, in
which the spirit is active in expanding, exalting, and reforming the
realities it witnesses to something which belongs to upper natiu'es,
or divine essences. Most things around the primitive poet were
above his comprehension, for he had but little philosophy to assist
him in analyzing appearances, and he therefore mingled the known
with the doubtful, and the real with the imaginary. He was a poet
of sensibility long before he had learnt to express any of his emo-
tions, or combinations in language. When he had proceeded so far
as to give his thoughts utterance in words, he selected the best and
most favourable he could find as a medium of his thoughts, and
probably for ages his words rather designated than expressed his

140 LECTURES ON

feelings and conceptions. As he grew more and more intelligent,
he became dissatisfied with his first expressions, and sought new
ones more comprehensive and more pleasing to his ear ; and verbal
beauties became as necessary to please himself and his hearers as
impassioned conceptions ; and measure, cadence, and tone, were
studied. The passions taught him their languages ; joy had his
sprightly note, and sorrow her melancholy one ; pity, as she melted
the mind, softened her words ; and rage and revenge were regardless
of the harshnessof theirs. Even in early days the consonancy of words
was sought, and rhyme was added to the other properties of verse ; but
not much used until after the christian era, though, probably, more
than is generally believed. /Every nation has found the advantages
/,'. ^ ; of poetry. It enlarged the compass of language ; it selected words
! of greater beauty and energy than were in common use ; it was the
' medium of heroick sentiments and devotional feelings ; it multiplied
; appropriate phrases, and melodious sentences ; and was constantly
improving the language with synonymes, new combinations, and
^ niceties of expression. It would be a deUghtful task to trace the
/ progress of the mind, through the history of poetry, from the earliest
times to the classical ages, and from them down to this of philosophy
and criticism ; but this would lead us into a wide field, too wide for
our present purposes ; I shall therefore, only give a brief account
of English poetry, to show its rise and progress, in order to have a
fuller view of our ovni. Poetry generally exhibits the best state of
the language of the day in which it was vn-itten. One set of poets
pass off after another, and the succeeding generation is indebted to
the preceding for much of the excellence it possesses, as the fine and
rich mould of the earth is formed from the successive productions
of a prior age. By examining the works of English poets, we can
trace, very satisfactorily, the several stages of our vernacular tongue.
It is agreed, on all hands, that the English language had its origin
in the first century after the Norman conquest, in 1066. In the
reign of WiUiam, and his immediate successors, the poetry of the
country, which was nothing more than ballads, was in Norman.
The Saxon legends were preserved in Norman rhyme ; but the
Anglo-Saxon mind was superiour in strength and invention to that
of the conquerors, and the English vernacular grew up with a few
Norman features ; but in body and spirit it was Saxon. This fact
is proved by the earliest EngHsh poets. Layamon wrote some-
where between 1135 and 1180. He was the author of the work
called " Arthur's Account of his Dream." After the time of Laya-
mon, there is a poem consisting of a dialogue between an owl and
a nightingale, disputing for superiority ; this, more distinctly than
the works of Layamon, makes the change which had taken place

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 141

in the tongue of the Britons. From 1300, English poetry, and of
course the whole language, took a definite, positive existence.

At this period, Robert de Brunne, or Robert Mannyng, wrote a
metrical chronicle of England, taking his facts from several old his-
torians. This same writer composed tales m verse ; these have not
been printed until lately j but copies of his manuscripts have been
preserved. The antiquarians say that the English language was
copious then, and give as a specimen his tale of the " Lady, a Lord's
Wyfe." This work may be read with tolerable ease by any Eng-
lish scholar. He deals largely in satire, but is at times full of ten-
derness, and is not a little romantick.

In the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, the English
romances constituted the reading of the age. The heroes of King
Arthur and Charlemagne, Richard Coeur de Lion, Amadis de Gaid,
and others, had their day, and passed away ; but they were great in
their time — quite equal to the Waverly novels of the present day ;
and, like the latter at present, were read by clergy and laity, ^e
fair and the wise. It was the fashion to read them ; and fashion is
irresistible, Romance and poetry are kindred spirits, and are ge-
nerally found together. In that age, the old ballads were renovated,
and were in the mouths of every one who had any pretensions to
taste. These writers aimed at the beau ideal iii their compositions,
and that was suited to the taste of the times. The habit of reading
these fictions and ballads entered into college-halls by grave per-
mission from the guardians of literature and religion.

Chaucer, who is called the father of English poetry, who died in V ^i

1400, was preceded by John Gower, who was celebrated before
Chaucer was known; he out Uved Chaucer, however, and died old . "

and blind, but not poor. He wrote a poem in English, called "Con- ^Ju.^'C ^ v
fessio Amantis." It contains thirty-five thousand lines ; it was -

composed at the request of King Richard II. He had more know- C
ledge of ethicks than of poetry ; and is named by Chaucer, in these
words: "O! Moral Grower!" He united the moral philosopher
with the minstrel ; and he may now be called the Cowper of his
age. He enlarged and disciplined the intellectual taste of his coun-
trymen. Gower was the first poet that wrote in the English lan-
guage, who gave his lovers a good share of learning, as an indis-
pensable requisite for success in winning the affections of the fair,
to whom they were devoted. Would that it had been more often
imitated. On the tales of Gower, Byron and Scott have founded
their Laras, Corsairs, Brides of Abydos, and Marmions. Who ever
was, or who ever can be, entirely original?

Chaucer was a politician as well as a poet, and was sent an am-
bassador to the Doge of Genoa, about 1370. He was for many

\vv 'J

.t,

143 LECTURES ON

years a favourite of his king, Edward III.— but by some accident,
lost his good will, and suffered imprisonment ; but was restored to
favour on the accession of Henry. He wrote Troilus and Cre-
seide, and the Canterbury tales.

The next English poet, was John the Chaplain. He translated
Boetius, and his language is remarkably good English; much less
obsolete at this day than Chaucer's. He hved in the reign of Hen-
ry IV.

The next poet, contemporary with John the Chaplain^ was
Thomas Occleve. He considered Chaucer as his father in poetry ;
and was a scholar worthy his master; he added many beauties of
language to English poetry. He wrote for Henry IV. and his
gallant son, Henry V., who employed Occleve as a clerk in the
office of the privy seal. He had the grant of an annuity, but it
was badly paid, for Hal had robbed the exchequer for his wars.
He wrote a poem on government, for Henry V., which is said to
contain many fine sentiments and correct principles.

Lydgate, a Benedictine monk, was another of the poets of the
days of these Henries. He vn-ote the "Storie of Thebes," and
" Siege of Troy." He is the first English poet who complains of
the criticks, a common grief since his time. He says that Chaucer did
not care for them ; so much the better for him, and, perhaps, for us )
for he might not have published so many of his works, if he had
been as sensitive as Lydgate. About this time, there were several
very clever poets in Scotland; Dimbar, and others; but we are now
looking only for those familiar to our ancestors.

A spirit of criticism is a strong symptom of an age of intellectual
advancement and literary taste. The publick grew fastidious in
proportion to the frequency of their mental banquets. The bright-
est parts of the most successful writer make the world less tolenni
of his defects.

From Lydgate to Spenser, there were several poets of considera-
ble celebrity in those times, but not much known to us. Spenser
was bom in 1553, and died in 1599. He was nine years seinor to
Marlowe, and eleven to Shakspeare. Marlowe was the most popu-
lar dramatick writer of his age. His plays caught the popular gale
before Shakspeare's were known. He was learned, and under-
stood the laws of rhythm, and of course his measure is smooth and
finished. He brought more care and beauty into blank verse, than
any of his predecessors. He was killed, at the age of thirty-one^
in a brawl. He was a free thinker, and his death was held by the
pious of that age, as a judgement for his want of principle ; and for
many years his works were neglected ; indeed, it could hardly

■-» -.

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 143

have been otherwise, if there had been no blot on his fame, as
Shakspeare was so near him. ,ij

When our ancestors came to this comitry, Shakspeare had been y i*
known to a few only in the circles of court fashion, and those who
frequinted the theatre ; but the religious part of the community,
who abhorred plays, and every thing connected with the drama,
knew but little of this great poet at that time. There were not
many of Shakspeare's plays then in print. An entire edition of
them was not published until the year 1623, seven years after the
death of the author ; and, after this time, it was many years before
his works were much read. During the puritanical times of the
CJommonwealth, the great dramatist was almost lost sight of; and,
as strange as it may seem to us of the present day, there were only
four editions of his works printed in all the seventeenth century.

I beheve that there is hardly a quotation to be found from Shaks-
peare in any American author, until after the commencement of the
eighteenth century. Beaumont, and Fletcher, and Ben Jonson,
were less known, at that time, than some itinerant ballad-singers. / ; ■ .- /
The prose writings of Milton, from his poUtical character, were <■ _
more extensively circulated in his life time. These, after a while,
were neglected, and his poetry made its way slowly in the literary
world. At first it attracted no crowd of imitators, and made no
visible change in the poetical rules of the age. Milton stood
alone and aloof above his time, the bard of immortal subjects; and,
as far as there is perpetuity in language, of immortal fame.

Dryden flourished at the time of the restoration, and was the har- V
binger of the Augustan age which followed ; when Swift, Addison,
Pope, Arbuthnot, and others of distinction in the walks of literature,
sfione upon the world. This was truly an age of poetry ; for many
then, who are scarcely known at this day, wrote good verses.
Fenton and Broome assisted in the translation of the Illiad, and \
their labours are not much inferiour to Pope's share of it; and yet 9
they held quite a secondary rank in the galaxy of genius which -^
graced that period.

Pope was first known this side of the Atlantick in April, 1717, as ap- ' '-"^
pears by a poetical epistle addressed to the author of Windsor Fo- .//. i
rest^ from Watertown, in the province of Massachusetts Bay. The
other works of Pope soon followed, and were much admired in this
country. Most of his productions had passed through numerous
editions before the death of the poet, which was in 1744. ; •

Sir Richard Blackmoore, who was a physician to William and* i- ■
Mary, and a poet of more loyalty than genius, wrote before Pope ; • -
and was, from his stately hexameter, and general strain of piety,
much admired in this country. He is often quoted by Cotton Ma-

/•//

144 LECTURES ON

AVatli / ther and others, with great respect and fondnessy/but of all the
poeta at the commencement of the eighteenth century, no one was
more read m this country than Dr. Watts. His fame for piety was
co-extensive with Christendom, among the protestants. His poetry
was found in the hands of all classes in this country. His lyricks
were well spoken of by the learned, and all joined in thinking his
psalms and hjnnns far superiour to the works of all his predecessors,
in the same line. The American booksellers reprinted his works as
they appeared, for they were sure of a rapid sale of them.

The works of Young were read with avidity on their first appear-
r .. ance, particularly his Night Thoughts. Addison was not so ge-
nerally read, but he had many admirers. It is amusing for us, at
this day, to look over the early newspapers in our country, and find
criticisms.and quotations exciting the people to read these works of
rare excellence. Franklin formed his style on Addison, as far as he
could, being of a very different cast of mind. The youthful Ame-
rican anticipated the advice of the great English critick, and lite-
rally read the works of Addison day and nighty to assist him in
forming a style. The intensity with which some of those works
were read by the people of only a common school education, is
almost beyond the belief of those unacquainted with the fact. Many
/ of the aged people we have seen, could repeat whole books of Milton
and of Young ; and the works of Watts were in the mouth of every
man, woman, and child ; and, at the time when his psalms and
hymns came into general use in the churches, there were but few
; who r^Qiired a book to join the choir in their devotions.

The history of American poetry is more curious than is generally
believed. Many writers have declared that we had no poetry until
after the commencement of the la^ century. The people of a prior
age, however, did not think themselves destitute of poetical talent.
It has been said that the austerity of the manners of the puritans
was not congenial to the muse ; that when they dethroned the pope,
and broke down the altars, and destroyed the groves of papal wor-
ship, they waged war also with the lovely creations of the classical
ages. TTie theory has some plausibility in it at first sight, but it is
not true to any great extent ; although the first exhibitions of our
own poetry were religious and scriptural, and mostly made on
mournful occasions ; yet the muses were often invoked, and inspira-
tion looked for from the Nine by our puritan fathers ; and, most cer-
tainly, Milton had none of these scruples of availing himself of the
works of heathen authors, for he has plundered every heaven and
earth, and mid-way territory, of Pagan creation, to adorn his own
wonderful and lovely universe. Good poetry, like other possessions
of knowledge, more often belongs to the age in which it was written

' -V r

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 145

than to the genius of the individual poet There are a great num-
ber of young ladies in the United States, who can write better poetry
now, than the most distinguished poet among us could half a cen-
tury ago.

I propose to offer you some specimens of poetry written in this
country, at different periods of our history, that you may compare
them with each other, and judge for yourselves of their merits 5
interspersing a few remarks of my own upon the writers and their
productions. » ^' C '

Our first quotation shall be from the muse of John Smith, who /•'♦>*^ *''^*'*
"was the ^neas of the new world. One would think, from the cha-
racter of the man, that his poetry would be of the first order. He
was fitted by nature and education for a poet ; generous, noble, and
full of genius, he saw every thing in a chivjQrous light ; not the
flitting, irregular, meteorick light of a perturbed mind, which is so
often found to mistake the agitations of feebleness for the workings
of the divinity within ; but one which saw things in the blaze of in-
tellectual day. He had been a philosopher, a hero, and a lover in
every clime ; and a favourite of the fair in every path of the sun.
The veiled beauties of Asia, whose hearts melt with romantick ten-
derness within the harem walls— the refined and accomplished
women of his own country, and the simple, honest, and noble
daughters of the forest, were enamoured with the blaze of his fame,
and charmed with the martial elegance of his person. His whole
life was an epick. From his work, we have culled a few scraps
of his poetry. He probably wrote much which has not reached us.

Smith, speaking of his journeying arou;kl the country— or rather
giving an account of it, says,

" Thus have I walked a wayless way, with uncouth pace,

Which no Christian man did ever trace ;

But yet I know this not a£fects the minde

Which caies doth heaie ; as that which eyes doe finde.

Mentioning the superstition of the Indians, and their temples and
tombs, and of their offerings to their god Okee, for fear of him, he
gives his readers a couplet :

" Thus, Feare was the first thdr gods begot :
Till fear began, their gods were not"

And, speaking of their devotions, ^ which the priests begin, while
the rest follow him ; sometimes he maketh invocations, with broken
sentences, by starts and strange passions, and, at every pauses
gives a short groane,"

N 10

146 LECTURES ON

*< Tbm seckethey indeepe foolisbneflte^
To climbe the height of happineaee."

And further,

* Though god begetting fear,
Man's blmded mind did ndae
A hell-god to the ghosts :
A heaven-god to the hoaste^
Yea, God unto the seas ;
Feaie did create all these."

Again ; speaking of the mischiefs which sprung from ignorance,
and the exertion of good men to counteract the influence of flanati-
cism and wickedness, he says,

" Good men did ne'er their coontzies mine bring
But when evill men shall injuries beginne,
Not caring to corrupt and violate
The judgements' -seat for their own lucre's sake ;
Then looke that country cannot long have peaoe^
Though for the present it have rest and ease.*'

In describing the scene in which Pocahontas saved his life, the
emperour, thinJdng he could do all work, kept him to make hatchets
and bells, the former for the father's, and the latter for the daugh-
ter's use ; and the captain, assuming as lively a countenance as pos-
sible, gives us the following poetical version of his situation :

" They say he bore a pleasant shew,
But sure his heart was sad
For who can pleasant be, and rest,
That lives in feare and dread :
And having life suspected, doth
It stiU suspected lead."

Touching, sarcastically, upon Master Wingfield and Captaine
Archer, who had been too fond of titles and places, and were now
sent home with Captaine Newport, he offers his readers the follow-
ing verses :

" Oh cursed gold, these hunger-starved movers^
To what misfortunes lead'st thou all these lovers ;
For all the China wealth, nor Indies' can
Suffice the minde of an av'ritious man."

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 147

On Captain Martin, who wished to load his ship with something
resembling gold dust contrary to Smith's opinion, he writes,

"But, the Grod of heaven, he eas'ly can

Immortalize a moitall man

With glory and vnih. &me.

The same God even as eas'ly may

Afflict a mortall man, I say.

With sorrow and wiUi shame."

In speaking of the factions in the colonies, the historian bursts
out in a fine thought, such as might have furnished a subject for a
longpoenL

<* Tin treachery, and fiicdon, and avarice be gone,

Till envy, and amlntion, and backbiting be none^

Till perjury, and idlenesse, and injury be out.

And, truly, till that villany, the work of all that rout ;

Unlesse those vices banished be, whatever forts you have,

A hundred walls together put will not have power to save."

The bards who wrote congratulatory epistles, after the custom of
the day, were numerous. Their lines are preserved in Smith's
work, and, by tacking them to his name, it is now known that such
men as R. Brathwait, Anthony Fereby, Ed. Jordan, Richard James,
M. Hawkins, Richard Meade, Ed. Ingham, and a host of others,
ever existed or tuned a stave; and yet they probably were very
considerable men in their time, for we observe the name of old
Purchas, the historian, among them, whose congratulatory ode is
the most stiff, awkward, and wretched piece of affectation, ever
written in any age, or by any hand. Some of the others have a
few scintillations of genius about them, but this has none.

In " Mortjon's New-England Memorial" of the pilgrim fathers,
published in the first half century of their history, may be found
several acrosticks and elegies of that early period. The following
lines on Mr. Thos. Hooker, pastor of the church at Hartford, (Conn.)
were probably written by John Cotton, the first minister of Boston,
one of the most distinguished men of the Massachusetts Colony.

'*To see three things was holy Austin^ 8 wish,
Rome in her jFYotccr, Christ Jesus in the Fleshy
And Paid in Pvlpit ; lately, men might see^
Two first and more in Hooker's ministry.

Zium, in BeavJty^ is a fairer sight,

Than Rovm in Floioer, with all her glory dight,

148 LECTURES ON

Yet Ziori* Beauty did most deoily shine
In Hooker' 9 Rule and Doctrine ; both divine.

Christ i' the Spirit 9 more than Christ in Fkah^
Our 8ouLs to quicken, and our states to bless !
Yet Christ in sjnrU^ broke forth mightily,
In fiuthful Hooker'o searching ministry.

Paulf in the pulpit^ Hooker could not reachs
Yet did he Christ in spirit, so lively preach,
That living hearen thought he did inherit
A double portiim of PauPa Uvely spirit.

Prudent in rule, in argument quick,
Fervent in prayer, in preaching powerful ;
That well did learned Ames record bear,
The like to him he never wont to hear.

'Twas of Oeneva^s worthies said, with wonder,
(Those worthies three) FareU was wont to thunder i
Viretj like rain, on tender grass to shower}
But Calvin^ lively oracles to pour.

An these in Hooker's spirit did remain,
A son of thunder, and a shower of rain ;*
A pourer forth of lively oracles^
In saving souls, the sum of miraeles.

Now blessed Hooker^ thou*rt set on high.

Above the thankless world, and cloudy sky ;

Do thou of all thy labour, reap the crovm.

Whilst we^ here^ reap the seed which thou hast sownP'

The following is an extract from the pen of Peter Bulkeley, of
Concord, whose reputation as a latin poet and scfiota^ we have
mentioned in another lecture.

*^A lamerUationfor the death of that precious and worthy minister
of Jesus Christy Mr, John Hooker^ Anno Domini^ 1647."

'* Come sighs, come sorrows, let's lament this rod.

Which hath bereaved us of this man of God ;

A man of God, which came from God to men,

And now firom them, is gone to God agen.

Bid joy depart : bid merriment begone ;

Bid friends stand by ; sit mournful and alone.

But oh ! what sorrow can be to suffice,

Though heaven and earth were filled with our cries.

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 140

Let Hartford ligfa, and mj, 'Fve lost a treaaure f

Let all New-EIngland moum at God's dispfeasure^

In taking firom us one more gnudooB

Than is the gold of Ophir predoiis.

Sweet was the savour which his grace did nre,

It seasoned all the place where he £d five.

His name did, as an ointment, give it*s smell,

And all bare witness that it saToured weO.**

• *###*

In a few years after writing the d^gy ot his friend, Hooker, Mr*
Cotton died in Boston 3

" Poets themselves must fidl like thoae they song;
'* Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tonefol tongoe;^*

and was mourned and praised In a iimeral el^gy, by his friend, John
Norton, from which we make an extract :

"And after WhUhrof^s, Hifolcer'*, Skeppar^s heane,
Doth Cotton's death call for a mourning versel
Thy will be done! yet. Lord, who deaPst thus^
Make this great death expedient for xul
Jjuther pulled down the pope, Calvin^ the prdate slew ;
Of Calvin* 8 lapae, chief cures to Cotton due.
Cotton, whose learning, temper, godfinesB^
The German Phoenix, lively did express.
MelancthorCa all — ^may JjiUhei'a word but pass
Melancthon's all in our great Cotton was;
Than him in flesh, scarce dwelt a better one^
So great's our loss^ when such a spirit's gone.
Whilst he was here^ life was more life to me ;
Now he is not, death hence, less death shall be.
That comets great men's death do oft forego^
This present comet doth too sadly shew ;
This prophet dead, yet must in's doctrine speak,
This comet saith, ehw must New-England break.
Whate'er it be, may heaven avert it &r.
That meteors should succeed our greatest star:
In Boston's orb^ Wlnthrop and CotUm were ;
Tliese lights extinct^ dark is our hemisphere.
In Boston, once, how much shined of our gloiy,
We now lament, posterity will story.
Let Boston live, who had and saw their worth,
And did them honour, both in life and death.
To him New-England trust in this distress^
Who will not leave his exiles comfortless.
N2

150 LECTURES ON

The following lines were written upon the same occasion, by B.

WOODBRIDGE.

A living, breathing bible ; tables, where
Both covenants at large, engraven were.
Gospel and law in 's heart had each its column^
His head, an index to the sacred voVwnrn,
His very name a title-page i and nex^
ffis life, a commentary on the text. >
O, what a monument of glorious toorkf
When, in a new ediiiani he comes forth,
Without errata^ may we think he'll be^ ,

Ih2eave»aDdcover«of etemitiel 4ii
A man of might, at heavenly eloquence
To &z the ear, and charm the conscience ;
As ifApoUoa were revived in hin^*
Or he had learned of a Seraphim ;
Spake many tongues in one : one voice and sense
Wrought joy and sorrow, fear and confidence.

A star, that in our Eastern England rose^
Thence hurried by the blast of stupid foes^
Whose foggy darkness and benumbed senses
Brooked not his dazzling influences.
Thus did he move on earth, from east to west ;
Here he went down, and up to heaven for rest.
Nor from himself whilst living, doth he vary,
His death hath made him an ubiquUary,
Where is his sepulchre, is hard to tell,
Who in a thousand sepulchres doth dwell,
(Their hearts, I mean, whom he hath left behind)
In them his sacred rehck's now enshrined.

Governor Bradfo^dj of the old colony, was another of the primi-
tive poets. His muse was rather timid ; for it does not appear that
he published many of his productions in rhjmie; but he certainly
left some of them to his posterity. They were narrative and de-
scriptive. Some portions of his poetic pains had a most singular
fate. The manuscript was carried to Boston by some of his de-
scendants, and there it remained for more than a century 5 but,
when the British forces left Boston, they took it to Halifax 5 and,
some years since, an American gentleman foimd a portion of
his " Account of New England in verse," in the shop of a pastry
cook} no miconmion highway to oblivion. The relict contained

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 101

three or four hundred lines, and is well worth preserving, which has
been done by the Massachusetts Historical Society, in their yaluable
collections. I shall introduce his lamentation on the avarice of trar
ders getting the better of their patriotism and prudence. It has much
Gf good sense about it, if not of harmonious verse.

4c 4e ♦ * ♦ *

"Bot a most despeiate mischief here is grown,
And a great shame it is it should be known ;
But why should I conceal so foul a thing
That quickly may our hurt and ruin bring !
For base covetousness hath got such a sway,
As our own safety we ourselves betray ;
For these fierce natives, they are now so fiU'd
With guns and muskets, and in them so skilled,
As that they may keep the English well in awe.
And when they please, give to them the law;
And of powder and shot they have such storey
As sometimes they revise e'en to buy more ;
Flints, screw-plates, and moulds for all sorts of shot
They have, and skill to use them they have got ;
And mend and new stock their pieces they can
As well in most things as an Englishman.

" Thus, like madmen, we have put them in a way,
With our own weapons, us to kiU and slay ;
TTiat gain hereof to make they know so wdl,
The fowl to kill and us the feathers sell,
For us to seek for deer, it doth not boot,
Since now, vfith. guns, themselves at them can shoot.
The garbage of which we no use did make^
They have been glad to gather up and take ;
But now they can themselves fully supply.
And the English of them are glad to buy.
And yet, if that was all, it might be bome^
Though hereby the English make themselves a scorn.'*

It has lately been discovered that Roger Williams, the first settler
of Providence, was a poet, and a very good one loo. There are
some fine specimens of his poetical powers in his treatise upon the
Indian language. It has more directness and ease, without the
quaintness, which was common to the times.

Thomas Wilde and John Elliott, the first ministers of Roxbury,
were considered as among the great poets of their time. They,
with Mather, made a version of the psalms. The work was wretched
enough} but Wilde sometimes wrote with some spirit, and even

y '

im LECTURES ON

tasle^ for that period. Someof his lines on Danforth are quite tol^
rable, and Cotton Mather has quoted them in his account of Samuel
Danforth, who was a scholar, and second fellow of Harvard Col-
lege. A few of them are giren from the Magnolia.

** Mighty in scriptuie, searching out the sense,
* AU the hard things of it, unfolding thence ;

He lived each truth ; his faith, love, tenderness,
None can to th' life, as did his life express :
Our minds with gospel his rich lecture fed;
Luke and his life, at once are finished :
Our NEW BUILT CHUBCH uow suffcrs too by this^
Larger its windows, but its lights are less."

ji The/^osUe to the Indians, the colleague of Wilde, had a most

unconquerable propensity to deal in verse. The burying grounds, in
/ ^^ Roxbury, bear testimony to this. He furnished epitaphs for all his

/' dear departed friends. One of his biographers thinks it is best to

let his poetry moulder and sink into the ground with the stones on
which it was engraven. He is fearful, ijf his epitaphs were disco-
vered, their uncouth verses might excite a little merriment in the
present generation ; and, using Cotton Mather's expression, " lest
the children might play with the beards of their fathers," which old
Mather seems to think a grievous thing; It would have grieved
him, indeed, could he have foreseen that the beard of reverend age
would not only be played vdth^ but often plucked and scattered to
the winds ; not, indeed, irreverently, but in the search of truth ; —
Mather's opinions on witchcraft, for instance. Elliott is not the only
instance of a great man making a ludicrous, if not a silly, poet ; but,
if not the only, he is certainly the most conspicuous example. He
was deeply imbued with every beautiful sentiment in the classicks.
The romantick tales of suffering love, and unyielding fortitude, and
deathless friendship, were femiliar to him ; not only these, but he had
read, in the original, the loves of David and Jonathan, and the sweet
psalmist's lamentations over the bodies of Saul and his son ; sur-
passing, when rightly understood, all other elegies. He had heard
the lamentations of the Indian father, who had received his warrior-
son a corse from the battle-field ; had listened to the murmurings
and bursts of grief which filled the wigwam through the long
watches of the night ; and had, by his eloquence and his prayers,
soothed the convulsions of nature, and given repose to the parental
heart. Yet, with every poetick image in his mind, the moment he
attempted to put a thought into verse, every particle of inspiration
vanished. I leave to philosophy to analyze such a mind, and to give
a reason why an attempt at measure should stupify such an Intel-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 158

lect, and why such a passion should he for ever operating on such
a mind.

Michael Wigglesworth, who was graduated in 1661, and whose
name I have mentioned in another lecture, was a poet of great re-
nown in his day. He published a work, " The Day of Doom| or a
Poetical Description of the Great and Last Judgement" This had
reached the fourth edition in 1701 ; and, of course, could not hare
been, as it has sometimes been asserted, an imitation of Young's
" Last Day," which was written several years afterwards. The poet
of the old world had read the work of the new, as every thing pub-
lished in this country soon found its way home.

About the commencement of the eighteenth century, Thomas
Makin was known as a poet. He had been a teacher of the first
ticGooI established in Pennsylvania, and wrote a Latin poem in very
good taste. It was a descriptive, sylvan, and statistical account of
the settlement of Pennsylvania ; which was translated by Proud,
the first regular historian of that state, and inserted, together with
the translation, in his work. In 1717, Francis Knapp, who was [ . /i . K
educated at Oxford, wrote, from Watertowni, a poetical address, ; ^^^ /
congratulating Pope on the publication of his Windsor Forest. "> - -■
This epistle was written in the best style of poetry which had then
appeared in this country ; but this rather shows the general progress
of poetry in England than in this country, for he had settled here only
a few years before. In that day the writing of verses in Latin and
English formed a part of the academical exercises in the English
universities. They had not then come so fully into the erroneous
doctrine that a taste for poetry was rather natural than acquired, as
their successors have affected to believe. The united efforts of na-
ture and education are required to reach distinction as an orator or
a poet It is education as well as nature which makes the Indian
orator. The most distinguished aboriginal orator I ever heard, an
Osage, once told me, that he had spent more than half of his life,
(he was then, he said, fifty years of age,) in communing with the
great Spirit, in contemplating his works, and in listening to the
speech of the old and the wise, to make himself an orator. What
is this but education?

Among the most extraordinary productions of the early part of
the last century, are those of Roger^Wolcott, of Ck)nnecticut He
published a volume of poems In 1725, when he was forty-six years
of age, one or more of them being of considerable length. Mr.
Bj;jkley, of Colchester, wrote a preface for the poem. Bulkley was
a poet himself, as was also the Reverend Timothy Edwards, to whom
it was dedicated by a poetical address. The writer of a preface, and
the person to whom a volume was dedicated, were considered as

154 LECTURES ON

sponsors for the mOTal tendency, at least, t>f the production ; and as
these friends of the author were distinguished scholars in their day
and generation, their opinions were, of course, decisive of the merits
of the work at the time. Wolcott was a self-taught man. He raised
himself from the humhlest walks of life, without a single day's in-
struction in any school, and hecame an orator, a poet, a commissary-
general in the expedition to Canada, in 1740 ; a major-general, in
1745, at Louisburg ; and a chief-justice, and chief-magistrate of his
native state. This did not satisfy him. He must be an author also;
not only an author, but a poet's wreath was wanting to fill up the
measure of his desire for glory. The following is his dedicatory
address to Edwards, which shows that he oould praise as well
as command and fight, and had no ordinary appetency for poetick
iame.

Sxa,

To the Reverend Mr. THmothy Edwards.

At sight of thu, you scarcely will excuse
My broken numbers should afiront your mose^
Whose single elegance outdoes the ^Hne,
And all their ofi^rings at Apollo's shrine.

But, sir, they come not to affsont, but stand
Trembling before your awfiil seat to hear
From you their sentence that's definitive^
Whether they shall be killed, or saved alive.

Tet, where you censure, sir, don't make the verse
You pinned to Glover's venerable hearse^
The standard for their trial ; nor enact
You never wiU acquit what's less exact.

Sir, that will never do ; rules so severe
Would ever leave Apollo's altars bare.
His priests no service : all must starve together,
And &ir Parnassus' verdant tope must wither.

Sure that was not the purpose or design
Of the fidr sisters when they did combine
Themselves in your assistance ; no^ their mind
In that great work, was otherwise designed.

They, having often to their trouble seen
Many bold poets launch on Hippocrene,
Men that might a handsome voyage made,
Had they but kept them to the coasting trade;

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 185

But ranging fiur upon those gweffing mtm,
Came home -with bn^en lines and voyages ;
Grieved at their losses and miscarriages^
A council met at ffippocxenides ;

They vote a remedy ; which to effect
That thdr Herculean pilar to erect,
And, to advise adventurers once for all,
Wrote ne plus ultra on its pedestal

Since which, there's none that dare presume to go
Beyond tiiat wonder then setup by you;
No^ nor attain it in their navigation >-
Tluit sacred woriL is not lEor imitation !

Conscious (^thie^ you see my muse ne'er soars
To SRbla?8 top, nor the Aonian shores ;
Kor doth pretend to raptures that might suit
Pindarut? muse or great Apoll&s lute.

Then weigh them candidly, and if that you
Shall once pronounce a longer Hfe their due ;
And, for their patron, will yoursdf engage.
They may, perhaps, adventure on the stage :
But if deny'd, they, blushing, back retire
To bum themselves on their own funeral pyre.

Whidsar, Jan.4, 1723-3. R. W.

There are to be found at the present day, many of the old narra-
tive pieces, written something after the manner of the old English
Ballad; and are considered as veritable scraps of history. It was
then a fundamental law of the muse, which she has not alwajrs re-
garded, in every age of her communications, to tell nothing but
the truth. The Indian wars, began, in good earnest, in 1635,
and continued, with only a few intervals, until 1763 ; during which
time, there were many "bloody massacres" of our people by the
foe, sometimes by the Indians alone, but oftener by the Indians and
French together. These fights were full of savage vengeance, and
what was thought to be retaliatory justice. Instances of great
courage and suffering often occurred, and afforded many excellent
opportunities for those disposed to exercise their poetical talents.
In fact, these instances imposed upon them the necessity of tr3ang
their hands at narration and elegy. There have been a thousand
descriptions of single combats which have delighted the reading
world in every age ; but few have ever attempted to awaken the
sympathies of mankind by poetical descriptions of such awful esters

Ifl6 LECTURES ON

minations of the human race, as those of Austerlitz, Jena, Wagranii
or Waterloo. Hector and Achilles, ^neas and Tiimus, Smith and
his Turks, Boon and his Indians ; combats in which every move-
ment may be seen at once ; these are such as are attractive to all
minds. We can sympathize and take a part in such actions; but
not so in those tremendous instances of the carnage of the human
race. These individual cases could easily be brought to bear on
families and villages, for there was hardly a family that had not
been called to mourn the loss of some one of its members ; and
there were but few villages on the frontiers that had escaped savage
vengeance, during the long period of these bloody conflicts. All
these events were then commemorated by some village poet, set to
some mournful measure, and were so preserved, perhaps for many
years, before they got into print, if they ever did. Some of these
doleful ditties were, at length, seized upon by the ballad-mongers,
and exhibited at their windows, in sheets, with two columns, and
were called " A Pair of Verses." These sheets were often adorned
with coffins and cross-bones, and sometimes, by way of high at-
traction, were surmounted with the '^ effigies of selvages," who were
exhibited

" like fieice barbarians, grinning o'er their prey,"

or, with bended bow, or glittering tomahawk, ready to destroy de-
crepitude and infancy, when their sturdy opposers had bit the dust.
They figured, at these shops, with Chevy Chase^ Handsome
Harry, Captain Kidd, and others of the same class.
/ Among the most respectable of these productions, is one which
f' has come down to us, certainly to me, anonymously ; an account
of Captain Lovewell's fight at Pigwacket, on the 8th of May, 1724
This battle excited a great deal of sympathy at the time, and the
event has been oftener commemorated than others, from the fact
that every minute circumstance of the battle has been more faith-
fully described than other occurrences in the Indian wars. Symmes^
a learned divine, of Bradford, which was on the highway taken hy
the relict of LovewelPs men, as they journeyed homeward, collect-
ed from them the history of the fight, as he entertained them at his
hospitable mansion, and gave it in a spirited sermon to his parish-
ioners from the pulpit, which was afterwards published with notes.
Penhallow, of Portsmouth, who was then writing a history of In-
dian Wars, took the narrative from some one of the survivors, and
his statement varies but little from the others ; but, if all these had
been lost, the ballad I have selected would have given to the pre-
sent generation a very correct idea of the fight. At that time,
there were other circumstances, also, which gave this battle much
celebrity. The character of the men who figured in it was aae.

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 197

Lovewell himself was a man of note. The very act of venturiDg,
with only a handful of men, so far in the wilderness, was consider-
ed heroick ; and such was the state of feeling, that nothing could be
considered as presumptuous at that thne. All his men were of the
most virtuous and religious class of society, and were well con-
nected. Many of them were heads of families, whose loss was severe-
ly felt in that thinly settled population. Among the number who
fell, was Mr. j^Qn^than Fije, a student in divinity, who was Love-
well's chaplain, and who had joined this little Imnd, from some
affair of the heart He made himself conspicuous in the fight,
and, as described, acted with reckless valour, which is often found
to belong to such a state of mind. The fair one to whom he was
thought by his friends to be imprudently attached, was not content
with the praise others were ready to. bestow upon the lost object
of her affections ; and although only fourteen years of age, struck
her harp, in mournful lays, upon her Philander's fate, and pro-
duced an elegy which has survived to this day, being lately found
in an ancient manuscript of a gentleman of the native place of the
lovers, and lately transmitted to me. If it does not bum with a
Sapphic blaze, it gives more of the light of history than all the
odes of the Lesbian dame on her lost Phaon. Miss Susannah
Rogers calls on the muse to assist her in describing the youthful
warrior, who afar off was resting without his shroud on the field
of glory. She says, that his person was comely, his age just twenty-
one, his genius of the highest excellence, and that he was the only
son of his parents, beloved by all who knew him. His valour, his
piety, his prayers amidst the fight, his wounds all bleeding, pass in
review before her streaming eyes, and she sees the "howling wil-
derness" where he fell. She notes the fortitude and resignation
with which he died, or rather his exhibition of it,when they left him
to die, for he was not dead, when his companions were under the
necessity of leaving him to perish. The parental grief is not for-
gotten, and her own loss is touched upon, with truth and delicacy.
Thus every age furnishes matter for grief and subjects for the poet
of a melancholy cast I will give you the whole of the balled on
the fight, for it is a fair specimen of that style of writing 5 but the
elegy of the bereaved fair, is too long for my purpose. J.

Of worthy Captain LoveweH, I purpofle now to tang.
How valiantly he served his country and his king ;
He and his valiant soldiers did range the woods full wide^
And hardships they endured to quell the Indian's piide.

106 LECTURES ON

*Twii8 nigh unto Pigwacket, on the eighth day of May,
They q>ied a lehel Indian, soon after hreak of day;
He on a bank was walking, upon a neck of land,
Which leads into a pond, aa we're made to understand.

Oar men resolved to have him, and travelled two miles round,
Until they met the Indian, who boldly stood his ground ;
Then spoke up Captain Lovewell, " Take you good heed," says he^
" This rogue is to decoy us^ I very plainly see.

<* The Indians lie in ambush, in some place nigh at hand,
In order to surround us, upon this neck of land ;
ThereiiDre we'll march in order, and each man leave his pack,
That we may briskly fight them, when they make their attack."

They came unto the Indian, who did them thus defy.
As soon as they came nigh him, two guns he did let fly,
Which wounded Captain Lovewell, and likewise one man motet
But when this rogue was running, they laid him in his gore.

When they had scalped the Indian, they went back to the spot
Where they had laid their packs down, but there they found them not;
For the Indians having t^y'd them, when they them down did lay,
Did seize them for their plunder, and cany them away.

These rebels lay in ambush, this very place hard by.

So that an English soldier did one of them espy.

And cried out, "here's an Indian," with that they started oat,

As fiercely as old lions, and hideously did shout.

With that our valiant English, all gave a loud huzza.
To shew the rebel Indians they feared them not a straw ;
So now the fight began, and as fiercely as could be,
The Indians ran up to them, but soon were forced to flee.

Then spoke up Captain Lovewell, when first the fight began,
" Fight on, my valiant heroes ! you see they fell like rain."
For as we are informed, the Indians were so thick,
A man could scarcely fire a gun and not some of them hit

Then did the rebels try their best, our soldiers to surround,

But they could not accomplish it, because there was a pond

To which our men retreated, and covered all the rear.

The rogues were forced to flee them, although they skulked for fear.

Two logs there were behind them, that close together lay,
Without bdng discovered, they could not get away {

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 100

Thevefogre our valiaift English, thoy tmTdl'd in a raw,
And at a handsome distanee, aathey were wont to go.

*Twa8 ten o'clock in the morning, when first the fight b^gan,
And fiercely did continue until the setting sun ;
Excepting that the Indians, some hours before 'twas night,
Drew ofi* into the bushes, and ceased awhile to fight.

But soon again returned, in fierce and furious mood,
Shouting as in the morning, but yet not half so loud ;
For as we are informed, so thick and fiist they fell.
Scarce twenty of their number at night could get home welL

And our valiant English, till midnight there £d stay,

To see whether the rebels would have another fray ;

But they no more returning, they made ofi* towards their home,

And brought away their wounded, as &r as they could come.

Mather By l^ was bom in Boston in 1706. He was settled as a
clergyman in the south end of his native town, was distinguished for
his wit and talents, and was a poet of no ordinary character. He
wrote with taste, but did not write much. He was one of the
correspondents of Dr. Watts ; and also one of the first in America,
to induce his parishioners to introduce the Psalms and Hymns of
that pious divine and respectable poet, who laboured in almost
every branch of literature, for every age, from lisping infancy to
full grown philosophers. Contemporary with Byles, was Joseph
Green, bom in the same year, and graduated in 1726. He was a
wit, a classical scholar, and a poet. He was also an intelligent
merchant, of great integrity, and soon became a man of fortune.
He annoyed the politicians of the time with satire. He put Bel-
cher's speeches into rhyme, and Shirley did not escape his lash.
Among his poetical pieces, was an "Elegy on Mr. Old Tenor," and
a satire upon a procession of freemasons, which were much ad-
mired at the time, from the happy delineations they contained.
But masonry in that quarter has changed its character since that
time. Green cared nothing for immortality as a wit or poet To
enjoy the hour of recreation was the extent of his wishes ; and,
stranger still, though often solicited to take offices of political ho-
nour, he laughed at them also. He was appointed a Counsellor by
mandamus^ and so soon as he received the summons, sent his
resignation to Gov. Gage. And, before he filed his summons in
mercantile exactness, as it was his habit to do with every commu-
nication he received, he wrote, as a gentleman well acquainted
with him informed me, a short ode on the back of the document,

160 LECTURES ON

that was an elegant satire upon the times, and wjiich, like a two-
edged sword, cut both ways. He belonged 9 a dub of wits, who
satirized every one they chose to make amusement of; and, fre-
quently, threw a squib at each other. Some of Green's com*
panions made this epitaph on him.

" Siste, viator ; here fies one^
Whose life was whim, whose soul was pun ;
And, if you go too near his heara^
He'll joke you, both in prose and verse."

1743.

Johnj Qpborn was bom in the year 1713, and was graduated in
1735. He studied divinity, but it was supposed he found himself
not sufficiently orthodox to be popular in Massachussetts, at that
time. He read medicine, was of a sickly constitution, and died at
about forty years of age. He was a poet of considerable talent.
He wrote, about the time he left college, a beautiful elegy on the
death of a young sister. It is tender and philosophical. He wrote
also a whaling song, which has been sung a thousand times in the
North and South Pacific, and in the Norwegian Seas. It is a good
description of the manly sport of hunting the monarch of the
mighty deep.

Thomas Gpdjfr^, who died about the year 1761, was the son of
Thomas Grodfrey, the mathematician, mentioned by Franklin as
the inventor of Uie Quadrant now so much in use, called Hadley's
Quadrant ; Hadley having had the honour of giving a name to the
instrument which he stole from Godfrey, and, for a while, the cre-
dit of the invention also. The elder Godfrey belonged to a society
in Philadelphia, with Dr. Franklin and other men of inquiring
minds ^ the son was for a time an apprentice to a watchmaker, but
preferring letters to the mechanick arts, he left the business of. a
watchmaker, and obtained a subaltern's commission in the Penn-
sylvania forces raised in 1758 to take Fort Duquesne, three years
after Braddock's defeat. He continued in the army until the troops
were disbanded, and then he commenced business as a Commission
Merchant in North Carolina, where he died, by over exertion in the
extremely hot weather of that climate. He was highly esteemed,
and his premature death, at the age of twenty-seven, was deeply
lamented. He had devoted much of his time to the muses, and
had, from time to time, thrown oflf many fugitive pieces, which
were gathered up by his friend Mr. Evans, and published in the
year 1763, under the title of juvenile poems, with a dramatick
work, called, " The Prince of Parthia, a Tragedy." This is, pro-

AMERICAN LFTBRATURE. 101

bably, the first tragedy ever written in this country. Many a
bloody one had, however, been enacted from 1755 to 1761, as weU
as before that time, from Fort Duquesne to the plains of Abraham.
The following extract f5pom an ode of his, on friendship, is smooth,
easy verse, and is not wanting in spirit If the writer of such lines
had lived, and continued his devotion to the muses, in the maturity
of his judgement, we should have had something of note to show
from his pen. What he has left is sufficient to give him a rank
among the poets of that day. In his pieces, there is abmidant evi-
dence that he was acquainted with Dryden and Pope, and, probably,
with other writers of the Augustan age of Queen Anne. All t^
lines are pure in their morality, and delicate in their sentunent ; aD4
this is no small matter in a poet ; for, in that age, after the writings of
Swift were diffused, we had not a few poets, of whom it might be
said that " the muses were fond to inspire, but ashamed to avow.^

A PINDARICK ODE ON FRIENDSHIP.

By T%oma8 Qodfirey,

■♦

Friendship I all hail! thou dearest tie

We mortals here below can claim,

To blend our else unhappy lives with joy ;

My breast inspire,

l^th thy true genuine fire,

While to thy sacred name^

I strike the golden lyre.
Clothed in pure empyrean light,
For vulgar eyes thou shin'st too bright :

For while they gaze,

Thy dazzling rays
Dim their too feeble light
But souls uncloyed with sensual toy%
Souls yrho seek true mental joys,
May, phoenix-like, sublimely soar,
May all thy heavenly charms explore^
And wanton in the glorious blaze.

O, G***! if now no charming maid
Waits thy pencil's powerful aid,
That when her charms shall &de away,
And her pleasing form decay —
That when her eyes no more shall t6S^
Or heaving sighs betray her soul —
StiU by thy art,
The stubborn heart
To mdt, and into love betray—
02 21

1® LECTURES ON

Attend! I smg; that power divine^
Whose heavenly inflnenoe sways such souls as tfame ;
Souls by virtue made the same,
Friendship's powerful ties may daim;

And happy theyi
Without aBay,
Blest in the generouf flame.

Dr. Franklin, whose literary and scientifick character we have
f* ^1 li / / • mentioned elsewhere, would have no small claim to the reputation
of a poet, had not his fame as a philosopher, politician, and prose
writer, thrown, as it were, into the shade, his occasional offering to
the muses. If there is no rhapsody in his inspirations, there is a
sweet and beautiftd flow of good sense and delicacy of feeling. His
love of Addison is discovered in his poetry as weH as in his prose.
The deep solemnity of Addison was not in the nature and dispod-
tlon of Franklin ; nor had the latter a tithe of the classical informa-
tion of the former; but a deeper knowledge of human nature, and
of the business of life, certamly belonged to Franklin. In the maze
of skepticism, Franklin lost, or never cherished, that solenm cast
of thought which one so truly pious as Addison always has, and
constantly infoses into all he says or writes.

Benjamin Pratt was a scholar who was never fostered into no-
tice, or fed Sy the flattery of the popular voice. He made his way
/T by energy of mind and finnness of purpose. He was graduated at
Harvard, in 1737. He was a first rate lawyer, and most admirable
logician. His poetry, written while he was engaged in full practice,
shows that he had a fine taste for this elegant accomplishment ; for
m his compositions are united depth of reasoning, force of illus-
tration, and command of language, with rich imaginings. He died
^ Chief Justice of New York, much admired for the powers of his
understanding, and the extent of his information. His communion
with the muses was by stealth ; another proof of the sacrifice even a
great man is under the necessity of making to public sentiment.
The poetry on which his fame, as a writer of verse, is built, was
found among his papers after his death, and few ever knew that he
made these private devotions to the art. His poems on several
subjects, are full of point and elegance, and have received the C(hii-
mendations of several judicious criticks.

'It.

t c

/. ^\ - . . • ■'•• . '. . ■■' ''.\'. • ■

.-•/

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 163

LECTURE X.

And none are more ezqointely awake
To natore'a loveliiiees^ than those who feel
t The inafuration of the moae— who take

Prom her the gfewmg thoughts, that, as they steal
Aroand the soid entranced, a goddess make
Of nature, to whose shrine ofbeanty kneel.
The fimd enthonast, adorix^ all
Within her, we nu^ dread, or loreJ^ QaH

JSacb,

The erents preceding and during the reyolution, called out all the
poetical talent of our country. I mean those talents which consist
in catching at circumstances as they arise, and turning them to ad-
rantage. Songs, epitaphs by anticipation, and satire in every form,
came fl3ring all abroad, to cut up the tory, and warm up the patriot
Every nation, civilized or barbarous, has used song as an instru-
ment of exciting a love of country, and urging the most popular
motives for repelling a foe, and securing that &me which belongs
to the brave. Many of these minor American poets have heea
swept into obscurity by time $ and it is, perhaps, too late to rescue
their names from oblivion ; but there are others of a higher order,
whose names will be preserved by the historian of our literature, as
having filled theur space in the revolution. Among others, Francis /
Hopk ins^ who was bom in 1738, was in the full maturi^ of his '
iSdtechial powers when the revolution began, and he brought all <
of them in aid of the great cause. He was a member of congress
from New-Jersey ui 1776^ and signed that memorable instrument, \
the Declaration of Independence. He was, afterwards, a judge of>
admiralty in Pennsylvania. Hopkinson was bom for a satirist, and
nature had left the most unequivocal marks of her intention in his
ph3rsiognomy. The quick, twinkling eye, the small animated fea-
tures, the thin lips and sharp nose, answered the rules of Lavater,
for one ^ who sees quickly^ and combines rapidly, and in such a
manner as to produce novel and pleasing' effects?^ His <' Battle >
of the Kegs" was much admired for its wit ; and even Sur William /
Howe, who was ridiculed in it, was said to have laughed heartily
when it was read to hiuL Long after the revolutionary conflict

164 LECTURBS ON

was over, he brought his talent to bear occasionally upon the ab-
surdities which are, and always will be, found in every society.
Sometimes he turned it upon the follies of a city corporation, and
sometimes upon the press itself; and so just, so keen, so powerful,
was his satire upon the press, which was then indulging in extreme
licentiousness, that, it is said, there was not for months after the
publication of some of his satires, a scandalous article to be found
in the columns of the newspapers of the day. Juvenal and Pope
could not boast of having produced such an effect, with all their
fame. It is much easier to ^^whip a rascal naked round the
worldj^ than to awe the conductors of the press, to keep within
the pale of deccnrum, at any time. Hopkinson's poetical efifusions
were, after his death, collected ahd pubHshed, in three volumes,
8vo. in 1792.

Lemuel . Hopkins, a Connecticut poet, whose name and writings,
from the similarity of name, are often conftised with those of Fran-
cis Hopkinson, was several years junior to his brother poet of Penn-
sylvania. He was a physician, and commenced the practice of his
profession in 1776. He was distinguished ito his t>rofession, and
equally so for his dress and manners. He wrote several occasioinal
pieces, which were much admired, and projected the Anarchiad, a
work which was probably the joint production of some of the best
poets of the day. The Anarchiad exhibits a thorough knowledge
of events, a deep insight into the moving principles of the policy of
the statesmen of that paiod, and im intimate acquaintance with
iStut powers, caprices, and dispositions of the lexers ui every party
feud. In tea^g ^lis work, at ^e present day. We adnihe the ge-
n&iis of the writers, although many of the points are lost, from our
bavittg suffered the minute history of the times When it Was i^rftten^
fOiMcape from dor memories, if ttiey were ever tueasUred iheur^

At the same time, when the afore-mentioned poets, Hopkhison
kad tlopkins, were throwmg their sdiafts from vigorous bowst, and
(ifnno3ing theJr enemies — (perhaps, earlier than eithei*,) Tlnnitmfl
appeared — ^himself a host in this warfare. His M'Fingal, uSBSagft
niodd^ed on Hudibras, is, in many things, superiomr to !t. The
Tories were not to be met by argument ; for they had many argu-
ments drawn from their fears of the success of the American arms,
Which could not be readily answered ; for no one could precisdy
foretell the issue of the conflict. They were to be conquered b^
ridicule ; no other power could reach them. Wit alone drove them
from the field ; and the Tories felt a greater hatred to the poet who
had made them ridiculous, than to the soldier who destroyed their
ranks by hundreds. This poem was decried in Engiatid, for many
years, but at last acknowledged to belong to Ihe first order of sati-

AMERICAN LFTERATURI!. tM

rieal poems. The loTeign foe did notclaim all the poet\i aUeufioii^
ioBt he spared some of his leisure hours to attack a domestick foe-'
one much to be dreaded in every age — ignorance. " Tlie Progress
of Ihdness^^ did much to prevent the multiplication of those cha-
racters, sometimes found at the present day, in virhose compositioii
dulness is shielded by gravity of &ce, and ignorance covered by
the affectation of piety. The author of M^Fingel is still living, and
could novr, perhaps, tell us what iriiare the different authors to(& in
the Anarchiad. It is to be hoped that he will do it Such an inti-
HMtion would gratify the curious, and injure no one. His co-adjo-
tors in this work are gone, and the parties lathed have passed
mway ; ao harm oould, therefore, come from such a disclosure.

^ ffi iyp j ir^yg, although he wrote less than many others, has no
smaB^'mims to the character of a poet His were mostly hasty
pieces written in the hurry of a camp ; but constantly abound in
enn^ and patriotism, and must have warmed the sddiers' heart
mt the time. Some lines are truly poetick, and will hold a perma-
nent place in the poetry of our country. It has certainly been
nserted, and never denied, that he was one of the writers cMf the
Anarchiad, and this is enough to give him a rank among ^ihe
tuneful hroiherhood?'* In the latter part of his life, his muse, accuch
tomed to camps,'do8ed her vmigs and turned shepherdess : but on
an oaten reed she could not play ; the trumpet was her instrument
He was, at all times, an enthusiast in the glory and fame of his
country, and poured out his prophesies profusely ; and of him it
must be said too, that he laboured to fulfil them.

Alongside of Trun^ ull^ Humphreys, and ^|g^w, walked one of
a graver mien. H5*poetry vras altogether devol^to learning and
piety ; and every song, hymn, or occasional verse, is full of pathos
and religious dignity. The epi(± on which he rested his fame was
not his happiest eftiit. He was constituted ifx epick grandeur, but
his piety led him to seize a difficult subject for the trial of his skill.
There was no novelty in the vengeance of heaven pouring its chas-
tisements upon a vncfced nation. Who can stand before Omnipo-
tence ! Who can question the doings of Israel's God ! Of course
there was no display of machinery ; nothing which shows the mas-
ter-hand of the poet in the invention of his fable ; for here was no
fable. We must see the mortal in every great work, to be struck
with admiration. The lofty dome of St. Peters, the work of man,
fills the mind of the beholder with more wonder, than the contem-
plation of this self-poised earth, wheeling its course, in the "void im-
mense." The works of man are questioned, examined, and criticised,
and often remodelled in the mind of the examiner ; and his admira-
tion settles at last on the great skill of the builder of an epick, or a

i <

106 LECTURES ON

temple. But neither philoeophy nor religion thinks to set bounds
to the power of God, or feels more wonder at one exercise of it than
at another.

Dwight's ^ Conquest of Canaan," notwithstanding the faults inhe-
rentln tlie subject, has not yet had justice done to it ; and one reason
for this delay was the superiority of his eloquence to his poetry.
No ear will hear that again. Mute is the once tuneful tongue ; but
his verse will be more read than it has been, and the more it is read,
the higher will be his iame as a poet. Although his creed was
tinged with the severe philosophy of the great Reformer, yet such
was the glowing benevolence of his own heart, that none of it was
seen m his intercourse with men. He was happy m the affections
of the wise, and the good, m the rising as well as in the ris^i gene-
ration, and happier still in the affections of his &mily. His poetry
and his eloquence were pure streams of heart and nund, refreshing
to all they reached, both young and old. One of the sweetest mor-
sels of Dwight's poetry was written while he kept an academy for
young ladies, to be sung at an examination, previous to a spring va-
cation of his seminary. His poem, ** Greenfield Hill," is much more
often read and quoted than the ^ Conquest of Canaan," and, by many,
thought to be a superiour composition.

The following is the h3rmn to which we referred.

Hail ! child of light ! returning springs
Fair imagei foretaste sweet of Heaven,
In thee our hearts thy Maker dn^
By whose blest bounty thoa wast given.

From thee, the wintiy glooms retire^
T%e skies their purest beams display;
And windfl^ and showerB^ and suns oonspiro
To clothe Ae world with hie and May.

Hail I knowledge, hail, — the moral Spring
That wakes the verdure of the mind (
To man thy ways indulgent bring
And fragrant fbwers and fruits refined.

Thy progress with the mom began,
Before thee ereiy r^on smiled;
The savage brightened into man,
And gardens blossomed in the wild.

AUhaill fiiirl^rtae! noblest good;
The bliss and beauty of the skie^

AMERICAN LITERATURK ^^ifft ,

By whom to yonder blert abode
The humble and the ftithful rise.

While heie, fidr Learning's smiles b^gin,
And Spring leads on the genial year ;
From realms of fife and peace divine^
Descend; and Uoom and flourish here.

And O, thou feunt of good supreme^
The Sun that lights eternal spring,
At once of knowledge source and theme ;
Thee^ first and last, our voices sing I

Virtue, in every charm arrayed,
For this dark world thy su^rings won ;
Those charms thy matchless life dis{^yed,
When here^ the incarnate splendour shone.

Ab dews refresh, as suns revive^
When clear and cloudless shines the day,
Command our rising race to five^
And win them from the worid away.

Joel B arlow was early distinguished for talents and acqtdrements
of the highest order. He entered the American army as a chaplain,
to assist, by every means in his power, the great cause ci his coun- "P. j. ! v r «
try. A chaplain was a very considerable personage in the army at
that time, and did much to animate his fellow-citizens to persevere
in the struggle. Many of the soldiers of the American army, in
that time, were men of capacity and virtue, worthy to command
men in any good cause, and, therefore, could more justly appreciate
the merits of such men as Barlow. On leaving the army, he became
a scholar by profession ; and is, perhaps, the only man in the history
of our country, who ever brought his learning to a good political
market. Poets have been made ambassadors, and peers, and secre-
taries, in other countries ; but few indeed of our country have found
emolument or office by their reputation for learning. It will not
always be so. It has been said by Barlow's reviewers, that his style
lost something of its purity by his enthusiastick attachment to the
literature of France, in the boisterous times of her revolution ; when
phrenzy made havock of taste as well as of aristocracy. If this
charge was, in some degree, correct, and perhaps it cannot be fully *
denied, it did not reach any considerable extent A few words or
phrases may, unquestionably, be found, which smack of that period,
but not many. His lines are, in general, vigorous, yet smooth, and
full of dignity and moral grandeur. His prose writing had fewer

108 LECTURES ON

faults of style than his poetry. There is great neatness in some
articles from his pen. The preface to the Columbiad is an admira-
bly condensed, historical account of Columbus and his discoveries.
Its perspicuity and beauty of language make it a model for succinct
narratives of the kind. The Columbiad is, at present, the first Ame-
rican poem extant There may be defects of style and versification
in -it ; and some of the complaints made by the Abbe Gregoire may
be true, " that Barlow was bigoted against superstition." The work
was first published at the close of the American war, and was then
called T%e Vision of Cdumbua, It was dedicated to Louis XVI.,
with some fine remarks upon that monarch's virtues. The Vision
was, after the death of Louis, expanded, and called the Columbiad.
It would have been quite as well for Barlow's fame, if this had never
been done. The Columbiad is, indeed, a great poem ; but it does
not contain the whole light of Barlow's mind, which was too
strongly tinctured with politicks to be kept constantly within the
strict laws of measure, or on the classical top of Pindus ; for he
would be a truant, now and then, from the sa/yred graves^ to sacri-
fice to the goddess of liberty, whether she appeared as a celestial
visitant on his own shores, or as a Parisian Elegante, flaunting in
meretricious robes. At such a tune, Apollo and the nine would call
after him in vain ; and their promise to bless his offering with a
double portion of inspiration were equally disregarded. He was
above envy. Mark how sweetly he praises his rivals :

"To equal fiune ascends thy tuneful throng,
The boast of genius, and the pride of eong ;
Waim'd with the scenes that grace thdr various dime^
Their lays shall triumph o'er the lapse of time.
With keen-eyed glance, thro* nature's walks to pierce,
With all the powers and every charm of verse,
Each science opening in hia ample mind,
ffis fancy glowing and his taste refined,
See Trumbull lead the train. His skilful hand
Hurls the keen darts of satire thro* the land.
Pride, knavery, duhiess, feel his mortal stings^
And listening virtue triumphs while he sings.
Pioud Albion's sons, victorious now no n^ore.
In guilt retiring from the wasted shore,
Strive their curst cruelties to hide in vain ;
The world shall leain them firom his deathless strain."

^ On glory's wing to raise the lavish'd soul,
Beyond the bounds of earth's benighted pde^

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 169

For daring Dtnght the epick muse lablinie
Hails her new empire in the western dime.
FHred by the themes by seers seraphick sung,
Heaven in his eye, and rapture on his tongue^
His voice divine revives the promised land,
The heaven-taught leader, and the chosen band.
In HanniePs fate proud &ction finds her doom ;
Ai's midnight flames light nations to their tomb (
In visions bright, supernal joys are given ;
And all the dread futurities of Heaven."

Another of that class of poets whose works were of great utility
in the revolution, was Willia m Li ving^n, LL. D., governor of
New-Jersey. He held that'oAce allerwvemor Franklin was de-
posed and sent ofif for adhering to the royal cause. Livingston was
a scholar and a wit. He was of the Addisonian school in style, but
evinced in his writing a thorough acquaintance with all the first
authors of his day. He was a satirist of the keenest lash, and quick-
est hand, and never spared the enemies of his country. His prose
writings were numerous and valuable ; but it is only as a poet we
are now considering his claims to distinction. He published a poem
called " Philosophical Solitude ;" which, although reposing in some
few large libraries unknown to most persons, is full of thought and
point, and not destitute of elegance. This work is destined to re-
suscitation 5 and when the long neglected works of our country shall
take their proper places, the productions of Livingston will be found
of no ordinary grade.

Philip JFVeTieaMj^of Pennsylvania, and sometime of New- Jersey,
was 'a poet' 01 flie revolution. A great nimiber of his productions
evince taste and talent, and were well adapted to the times. Every
old continental had some of his verses at his tongue's end ; and
often animated himself and his companions over his bowl, when he
had the good fortune to find one that was lowing. Freneau was
not confined altogether to poetry of this character. He wrote some
fine patriotick pieces of considerable extent, and others of a miscel-
laneous nature. Soon after the war, he published a volume of his
poems on coarse paper and with bad type. Since that time, a hand-
some and enlarged edition has been given to the publick. Freneau's
pieces are very unequal. Some of them were probably thrown oflf
in haste, and others polished with care. The '^Address of Colum-
bus to Ferdinand," is a very happy efibrt, and his Indian death-song
has been much admired. The latter effort we will give entire.

"The sun sets in night; and the stars shun the days
But glory remains, when their fights &de away.
P 22

IW LECTURES ON

Begin, yc tormentors; your threats are in vain :
For the eon of Alknomock can never complain.

Remember the woods, where in ambush he lay.
And the scalps which he bore from your nation away.

Why do ye delay 7 'till I shrink from my pain?

Know, the son of Alknomock can never complain.

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow :
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low.
The flame rises high — You exult in my pain :
But the son of Alknomock will never complain.

I go to the land, where my father is gone

His- ghost shall exult in the fame of his son.

Death comes like a friend — He relieves mc from pain :

And thy son, O Alknomock, has scorned to complain."

Mrs. Warren is well known to the present generation by her
hisioiry of the American Revolution ; but perhaps it is not so well
known that she was distinguished for her poetical talents. She
was of patriot blood, and an inflexible republican. If her fame
required heraldrick honours, and connexion with genius, it would
^. be sufficient to say that she, was sister to James Otis, the great
.' ^ patriot of the revolution. This lady not only wrote many things
in prose and verse for the encouragement of the work of opposi-
tion to arbitrary measures, but she found leisure to write two tra-
gedies in five acts each, and of considerable length. The first was
•*The Sack of Rome," and the other, "The Ladies of Castile."
These were written during the war, and published before the close of
it, as early as 1778. These productions abound in heroick sentiments,
and the verse, in many instances, is smooth and strong, without those
extravagant things which injure many of the modern tragedies ;
for instance, Bertram and Cain ; nor is it pretended that they have
as many lofty conceptions and felicitous sentiments as the modem
productions ; but they are very clever, all thmgs considered, and
ought, and will be preserved, in the annals of our poetry. These,
with other poems, were collected ui the life time of Mrs. Warren^
and published in a volume, at Boston. This lady also wrote poli-
\ tical speeches for some of the members of the Convention, called
\ for adopting the Federal Constitution, in 1788; and the speaker was
^ detected in his borrowed plmnage by the elegance of the style of
his oration, and from his ignorance of some of her classical allu-
sions. She was well acquainted with all the great men of her
' time, and corresponded with many of the most intelligent of them.

AMERICAN UTERATURE. HI

She lived to see the country prosperous and happy ; and died, in a
good old age, surrounded by several generations of her descen-
dants. If not a poetical, certainly an enviable exit

Thomas J^wgs, j r. was a native of Boston, and was graduated
at flairard (Joriege in 1777, soon after the revolutionary conflict
began. While in college, he devoted some of his leisure hours to
poetry, for which he had a strong propensity, but which he then
felt he must restrain, if not sacrifice, to the profession for which
he was intended ; not that he thought a refined taste inimical to
the study of the law, or that a man could not make a good special
pleader, if he now and then culled a flower from Parnassus ; but
the world was then hi a hurry of industry, and thought that he
could not be a business-man, who stopped to polish a period or
make a couplet He was in full practice when quite young, and
had powerful patronage. Early in life he was made a Judge of
the Supreme Judicial Court, and having resigned this ofilce, he
was appointed Judge of Probate ; to the duty of which oflice that
of Judge of the Municipal Court was, after a while, added. Once
in a v^hile, through life, he stole an hour or two from business or
sleep to make an occasional ode or hymn ; and when the good peo-
ple of Boston were attempting to commemorate some fact in the
history of the war, on their monuments on Beacon hill, or at the
stump of the old tree of Liberty, he was regularly called upon to
aid the work by his poetical and classical taste ; and tfiose fine inscrip-
tions, which were often read and admired, were from his pen. This
medal-style of writing, requires taste, judgement, and imagination ;
for it must imite in the shortest possible compass, point, fact, dignity
and ease. These monuments are razed to the ground : they fell
before the spirit of enterprise and speculation ; but the inscriptions
are preserved as felicitous touches of the patriotism and taste of
that period.

The singular and sudden death of that great patriot, James Otis,
who had lived, for years, " a mighty mind o'erthrown," called for
the poetick talents of Judge Dawes : and he commemorated the vir-
tues and mental energies of the deceased in an ode, worthy of the
subject and of the writer. A few lines of it we shall extract, for
the purpose of showing the author's tact and discrimination.

"Blest with a native strength and fire of thought,
With Greek and Roman learning, richly firaught,
Up to the fountain head he pushed his view,
And from first prindples his maxims drew.
'Si^te of the times, this truth he blazed abroad,
''The people's safety is the law of God." /^..'.^tv . r*, ''•

; .' ' . ■ • i ^. ■ ■ V .

4 /^-

172 LECTURES ON

The last effort of his muse, was a hymn to he sung at the dedi-
cation of a church in Baltimore. It certainly ranks high in this
order of compositions.

' P)''* J^w iah I^r owii Ladd^ of Charleston, South Carolina, who
didffohthe second 6[ November, 1786, in the thirty-second year of
his age, was a poet of the first class in our country. He was bom
at Little Campton, in Rhode Island. He delivered an oration on
the fourth of July, 1785, which is, in part, preserved by Niles, in
his " Principles and acts of the Revolution." It is a work of taste
and imagination, full of pathos and instruction. In the American
/ . vi * C Museum, published in Philadelphia, in 1787, there are to be found
several specimens of his poetry, which are truly excellent. His
^ Address to the Sun," a " Runick Ode," as hje calls it, is full of genius
and skill. He had command of all the laws of rhythm, and sported
with his muse in every measure of verse. He passes fjrom grave to
gay, with great facility; from the pun, the jest, or the conundrum,
to the solemn appeal of Almasi, the wife of Almaz All Cawn, to
Warren Hastings, governor general of India; in which appeal,
rage, narrative, vengeance, and power, reign in turns, with intellec-
tual light and vigour. As some persons may not have paid particu-
lar attention to Dr. Ladd's poetry, I will give them his << Ode to the
Sun," not as his best production, but as one which shows how much
he had, not only of the inspiration of the poet, but also of the know*
ledge and practice of the art of poetry.

A RUNICK ODE,
By Dr, ladd.

Radiant orfa^ revolving round.
Where, O whither art thou boondl
Thou, that like some shining shield,
Bl^ng o'er tl:ie bloody ^dd,
Dost on high majestick move,
Pouring sunshine all above.

Where, O whither art thou bound,
Rolling now in glory round 1
Red and fiery round thy brow,
Lo ! the western waters glow ;
And behind, across the vales,
Ev'ry length'ning shadow trails.

Where, whither ait thou bound,
Deep in distant surges drowned 1

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 198

Evening maichei^ wiapt in douda,
And each prospect gaily shrouds ;
While on yonder sea-beat shores,
Blacker night in silence pours.

Hark ! hear the rushing blast,
What shrieks it mutters round !
It bellows o'er the dreary waste^
And death is in the sound.

See, see what horrid fonoa,
Like thin gray mists, appear ;
They ride at midnight on the stormi^
YTiih horrour in the rear.

Hark ! hear the feeble shriek,
How shrill the echoes rise I
Ye grim-gray spirits speak, O, speak-
Why — ^why those dying cries 1

What — do you vanish so 7

Are ye already gone 7

Where, grim-gcay shadows, do ye go^

To pour the plaintive moan?

Hushed are the winds — ^in their dark silent house
The stormy breeses sleep: — save one soft gale
That whistles through the grass, and seems to say.
Hence, bard of sorrow — ^plaintive poet, hence !

I go, sweet gale — on yon lone echmng shores,
Where, 'midst the foam, sharp-pointed rocks emerge^
To hear the stormy cataract that roars.
Tremendous I answered by the bellowing surge.

And while around the foamy billow's sweeps
The briny wave sheds momentary gleams.
By which the spirits of the awfiil deep.
Shall court my vision with horrifick screams.

Stay, bard ! a moment stay ;
For see, the morning ray

Breaks from the eastern sky.
Thus, wand'ring long unseen,

In dim obscurity 1

Where^ O whither did'st thou stray,
Radiant orb, that giv'st the day.

174 LECTURES ON

Long did we thy absence moum;
Long we've waited thy return;
Say, refulgent planet, say,
Where, O whither did*8t thou stray t

Jonathan MitcheU SeweU^ a poet of considerable note, was a law-
yer, arSie Rockingham Bar, in the state of New-Hampshire. He
was a man of genius ; eloquent and rich in the charms of varied
and happy conversational powers. He seldom exercised his mind
on any subject, until some strong inducement was offered him;
and those of fame were more powerful with him than those of
money. He spent more of his strength upon whims and vagaries,
to test his powers, than became a wise man, conscious that Weis
short and science long. But his heart was right, when his argu-
ments were extravagant ; and the wildest of his eccentricities had
the stamp of genius about them. His songs are full of the true
spirit of poetry, and were generally produced on the spur of the
occasion. He was delighted with Ossian, and paraphrased him in
fine, flowing verse. His version was written before Linn's, and is
more extensive, and, on the whole, better than that of the distin-
guished poet of Pennsylvania, of whom we shall soon have occa-
sion to say something. In the latter part of his life, he was often a
prey to gloomy feelings; and his sufferings did not, like Saul's, find
an anodyne in the muse of another, and seldom a transitory gleam
of comfort from his own. By seasons of melancholy, the mental
fibre may become more attenuated and delicate; but generally
loses in strength more than it gains in sensibility. The heart must
be pierced by the arrows of afliiction, to enable it to pour out the
sweetest strains of sympathy, but it must not be wounded too se-
verely; its pulses must beat regularly in its greatest fulness, to
give to thought its length, and breadth, and depth, and to fancy her
extended wing and purest fire. It is not philosophically true, be-
ycmd a certam extent, that, in the agonies of the heart, "he best
can paint them who can feel them m^ost^ They may be felt too
much for the sufferer, however poetical he may be, to describe
them minutely and accurately.

John Blair Linn was bom in Pennsylvania, in 1777, but most of

hi8*early life was passed in New York, until he became a preacher

i of the gospel. He possessed the true elements of a poet — sprang

' affections, quick perceptions, expanded views, with an xmquencha-

' ble lo ve of d istinction. He felt the foil inspiration of genius, but at

the same time acknowledged that, without industry, it was as

useless as the scattered leaves of the Sybil. He opened upon the

world, after he left college, as a student at law, a poet, a stage

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 175

critick, and a dramatick writer. The great dramatick writers were
to him, as they are, and have been, to many men of high and cul-
tivated minds, the master spirits of the literary world. To be en-
rolled among them was then his ambition. There were, at that
time, some admirable actors in the United States.

^^SSfiSS^if^^ and his company were then in the height of their
fame. Linn was enamoured with the fascinations of the stage, and
presented them with a play called Bourville Castle, which was
brought out in New-York with considerable success. But, m the
midst of his popularity, he changed his views of the moral dignity
of the course he was pursuing, and determined on divinity as a
profession; and, at once retiring from the gay and fashionable
world, and the pleasures of the conversation of the poets and wits
with whom he had associated, he began his new pursuits with the
warmest visions of future usefulness. Divinity is a noble profession K
for a man of genius, and of hallowed feelings. He is found at once \
in the company of saints and mart)n*s. The visions of glory they
saw, he sees also. He converses with the dead, the resurrection, and
the life to come ; and i^ as it were, admitted, by the sanctity of his
character, to a familiarity with his God. When in the pulpit, Linn's
lips were touch'd with a coal of fire from the altar of the most High.
"When he dwelt on the loveliness of Christianity, and the hopes of
those who die in the Lord, age bent with reverence at the truths
which came sweetened by his eloquence, and beauty breathed new
aspirations for immortality at his pictures of the happiness of the
just made perfect In the height of his fame, and in the midst of
his usefulness, he forgot not the muse who was so fond of inspiring
the moments of his childhood. He wrote a poem on the Death of
Washington, and another on the Powers of Genius, which he had
commenced some time before. The latter had a high reputation in
England, and a splendid edition of it was published in London.
The criticks spoke of it in a very favourable manner ; but while the ,

(^ whining^ of every baby poet of Englandjhave gone through a dozen .
editions in this country, " The Powers of Genius" has been on the
shelf these twenty years. That is not, however, its final destiny.
It will find its place soon, and rank high in the annals of American
poetry, when that poetry assumes the character which it has a legi-
timate right to take. John Blair Linn died in the twenty-eighth
year of his age, a Doctor of Divinity, beloved by the friends of learn-
ing and piety, and honoured by the tears of genius. His fame is
preserved for that period when we shall take an interest m our own
talent, by the pen of Charles Brockden Brown, "which adorned
every thing it touched." The followmg extract is from the " Powers
of Genius f but the work must be read as a whole for one to form

/ '

f '

m LECTURES ON

a correct opinkm of its merits as a compositioiL In this extract is
a happy offering of one genius to another.

** While nature howb, and mirth's gay whispeis die,
Her eye on fire— her soul in ecstacy I
See bolder Raddiflfe take her boundless flight !
Clothed in the robes of terror and of night !
O'er wilds, o'er mountains, her high course extends^
Thro' darkened wooda^ and thro' banditti's dens.
At length she lights within some mined tower,
While from the turret tolls the midnight hour.
A thousand phantoms follow at her call,
And groans ascend along the mouldering walL
Dim shadows flutter o'er the sleepy vale ;
And ghostly musick comes upon the gale I
A light appears ! some hollow voice is near ;
Chill terror starts, and every pulse is fear P'

Like other poets of his time, Linn was delighted with Ossian.
This work was one of those which catch the fancy of the day, and
then pass away. It was a tissue of silvel' on a cloth of a dark
ground, beautiful and dazzling, but which loses its lustre by too
much exposure, and is tarnished by the very breath of its admirers.
The sound and wholesome taste which had been formed by the
poets of America, by an intimate acquaintance with the best English
writers, from Shakspeare down to Johnson, Cowper, Haley, Beattie,
and others, who grew up after the age of Pope, Arbulhnot, and
Young, was considerably shaken and vitiated by the sudden influ-
ence of the Delia Cruscan school. These honied rhymes, without
energy or point, came upon us like a deluge. They were so easily imi-
tated, and any imitation was so near the original in point of genius,
that a spawn of these namby-pamby verses came from the poets'
comer of every newspaper, in such profusion, that one of taste might
suppose that ^^ Bedlam or Parnassus was let ovi?^ The French
revolution had deranged all the maxims of criticism and morals as
well as of politicks, and jingle and nonsense flowing in mellifluous
currents often passed for true inspiration. Surrounded and influ-
enced, more or less, by this bad taste, our poets grew up from 1792
to 1800. In looking at their works, at this moment, the circum-
stances of the case should be taken into consideration. Every poet
or orator, in every age, is influenced in bis taste by the opinkms
then prevalent. He may in some degree be aff*ected even when ht
struggles to oppose it. Paiiie, Prentiss, and Lathrbp, set their ftieet
against every thing that was not justified by the canons of Pope;
but, at the same time, caught something of the rhapsodies of the day,

Robert Treat Paine was, for ten or fifteoi years^ ooDSideied the

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 177

first poet of the United States, although he wrote nothing of any
considerable length. His most happy effort, the song of " Adams
and Ldherty^^^ gave its author (a copy-right being secured by the
friendly and provident printer) more than ten dollars a line ; a rare
instance of remuneration for literary labours in this country. His
" Invention of Letters," was a poem of some length, and was much
admired for its reach of thought, boldness of imagery, and smooth-
ness of versification. It has lost cast, however, among the produc-
tions of that period, but is still admired by many, and pronounced
as holding a very high rank at the present time. The drama called
forth his talents, and the ode he wrote for the opening of the Boston
theatre, after it was burnt and rebuilt in 1796, ranks with Johnson's
at the opening of the Drury Lane theatre. The criticks have pre-
tended that Johnson was, not a poet; but whenever the finest ge-
niuses of this country or England have ventured to take the same
path in literature, the giant track of the great moralist has never
been effaced by a more Herculean foot.

Prentiss (we talk of those poets near our own time with more
famfliafity, their history being known to all) was a wit who wrote
with great ease and neatness. He was without bustle, splendour,
pomp, pride, or circumstance, in his literary labours. He manu-
factured occasional odes, songs, and satires, as the business of the
day, and never thought of them again for profit or fame. He was
not so capable of lofty flights as Paine, but he was more accurate in
his figures, and more easy in his versification. With proper induce-
ments, he was capable of more continued efforts, and more regular
and certain results. His knowledge was more extensive and classi-
cal than Paine's ; but he could not make such an array of it as his
rival could, when excited by the corruscations of other minds.
Pame, in a flood of mental light, when song and wit went round,
was the object of attraction, however numerous were those who con-
tended for victory. «^

J ohn Lat hrop was contemporary with Paine and Prentiss in
college ; and like them, he studied law, became a writer in the
publick, and, then, an editor of a newspaper. He was a man
of considerable talent and taste, and a pure, sensible writer, in
prose and verse. His poetry was not so lofty as Paine's, nor so
witty as Prentiss' ; but was more regular, equal, and classical than
either. He was a more regular scholar, better acquainted with
niles than his rivals ; and, probably, most of his productions are
destined to more enduring praise than theirs. His life was an
eventful one. Ten years, or more, of it were spent in the East
Indies, where he experienced much, and learned nothing but how

to advise othera. He oilen complained rather of himself than of

178 LECTURES ON

his acquaintances. Tossed from law to a clerkship ; from that to
literary fagging; from that to instructing of youths, and from this
employment to a clerkship again, and from that to his grave ; he
knew no rest, from the commencement to the close of his career.
He was first known as a writer when the publick taste was vitiated ;
and bombast and inflation passed for energy and genius. But he
stemmed the current manfully, and was not, like many others,
carried down by it. His early and his latter pieces have a freedom
from singularity and affectation, which show the clearness of his
conceptions and the delicacy of his feelings and taste. Among the
best of his productions, is the " Vision of Canonicus," the sachem
of the Narraganset Indians. This is the first production of that
school of poetry, which has since been so prolifick in lovers of the
Aboriginals. The Indians of our Country, up to his time, had not
met with much sympathy, or had many songs of praise or justice
lavished on them. If they were mentioned by the poets of " olden
time," it was,

" Heard ye yon arrow hurtle through the air 1

" Or saw ye the tomahawk or scalping knife, ready to destroy old age
and infancy? Or does not the war-cry stiffen your soul with horror?"
These were the usual introductions of works on the Indians. The
few good things honest Roger Williams, or Elliot, their apostle, had
ventured to whisper in their praise, had been forgotten in the suc-
ceeding ages of blood and massacre. The day of retribution has,
however, come ; and some of our poets are making these sons of
the forest the heroes of epics and the knights of song. It is no
small praise to be called the pioneer in this course of magnanimity
and justice.

Soon after the time of Prentiss, Paine, and Lathrop, William
Boyd, w ho died very young, was coming forward with great pro^
mise, as a poet. Several of his productions, as an under graduate,
have been published, and have been thought by good judges, to be
very clever. His poem on woman has many beauties in it ; and,
considermg his youth, at the time he wrote, may be placed high on
the list of the works which have given celebrity to some of his
compeers. The subject is treated by him with considerable no-
velty, and without one particle of improper freedom; for he wrote
at a time when every one was not so cautious. Boyd was a man
of genius, delicate and refined in his feelings, and suffered from
having more taste than was then marketable, and more sensibility
than could be understood by the common members of society. The
most delicate and susceptible are the most readily misunderstood.
Their efiusions are poured out on all around them, and are too often

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 179

chilled by the atmosphere they meet. They admire and love by
too strong impulses, and act too often without regard to conse-
quences, or never think of contingencies. They are formed to be
delighted, and, perhaps, enamoured with the gay, the sentimental
and intelligent, who lavish on them their smiles ; and these sus-
ceptible beings are ready to defend those they love at every risk.
They think, at least, that they have made as strong an impression
on others, as others have on them ; and calculate what others would
do for them, by feeling what they would do for others. In addi-
tion to this, such a mind is anxious every hour for fear he may
offend some of his friends, and spends many a sleepless night in
dwelling upon some look of his fiiend, not so kind as he could
expect or wish, and runs his imagination into all possible causes
for his supposed alteration, when none exists, nor even a thought
of change has entered the mind of him, so strangely altered in the
view of the sentimentalist. At one hour the mind of so delicate a
man is tortured by thinking that he has done something to diminish
his reputation for genius; at another, that his friend may be
surfeited, and that were worse than death. This lady did not
look so kindly as she was wont to do, and he had lost ground
in her good graces, or some such matter. So the too sensitive man
is tossed from one wretchedness to another, until he sinks into mise-
ry or misanthropy — and falls, perhaps, into a decUne, that ends his
days and evils together. Many have fallen victims to such a mor-
bid state ; and have not had a mourner for their death, nor hardly
a follower to the grave, from out of the very circle for which it
may be said that they died. Could the victim of sensibility live
over the shock of his early heartaches, and look deeply into the
world, he would find no excuse for wasting his sympathies on
those who had them ; for, on a reverse of fortune, he would dis-
cover that he had made a false estimate, in many instances, of
those with whom he had been associated. Vanity sometimes comes
in as an antidote, to assist the sufferer, but pride is a much better
support. Boyd had more genius than he had credit for ; more sen-
sibility than pride ; and felt more of the agonies of love than of the
cordials of admiration ; and his delicate constitution simk under
them in early life.

Another of these early victims to the consumption, from whom
much Iras expected by the literary part of the commimity, was
' Will.iam C lifton. He was well known in Philadelphia, in which
city he was Ibom, in 1772, and where he died, in 1799, in the twenty-
seventh year of his age. His parents were of the society of Friends,
but it was never known that he was, after he arrived to manhood,
particularly partial to the tenets of the sect. In some things he

MO LECTURES ON

must have differed widely from them, as he was an advocate tor
war, or at least a war spirit is strongly breathed in some of his oc-
casional odes and songs of patriotick cast. His father was a man of
fortune, and as his constitution was delicate, he never entered much
into the details of business, nor had occasion for the emoluments of
it Clifton was just coming to manhood when the French revolu-
tion burst out He was distinctly on the side of legitimacy, and
suffered his feelings to get deeply engaged in the afi&iirs of the
world at that time. Every thing that had the hoar oi antiquity upon
it, was likely to be swept away without distinction; not only titles^
but habits, laws, and manners were changed. The methods of
thinking and writing suffered the greatest changes ; and he saw, like
Fisher Ames, and other amiable men, nothing but darkness and
evil. At this time gifford^s Ba viab and Mjsviad came from the
press, and made a great impression upon the literary world. It was
a good piece of satire, of old fashioned stu^ of the achodl of Pope.
It was reprinted in this country, and Clifton wrote a poetical epistle
to the author, after the practice o{ former days, "which was prefixed
to it This work gave Clifton a high stand among our poets^ and
the praise bestowed on Gifibrd was so unequivocal, that the crusty
translator of Juvenal was thought to have viewed the epistle of his
young admirer with some complacency. The address deplored
the situation of letters in our own country, in terms sufficiently dis-
tinct and unpretending to suit even Gifford, who could hear of no*
thing but what was within the sound of ^0W bells.

" beneath our shifUng AitM

Where fiuicy sicken^ and where geniuB diet i
Where few and feeble are the muse's strains^
And no fine fancy riots in the veins ;
There still are found a FEW to whom belong
The fire of virtue and the sotd qfaong,**

It was not to be wondered at, that our poets should have decried
our taste for poetry or the fine arts; for all was then bustle and po-
liticks, or calculations and commerce ; all the ambitious were stri-
ving to be statesmen; and no other path to fame was open. The
learned professions had not then taken the stand they now have ;
they were in the second and third classes in society. The i^erchant
and statesman were very far before them ; and literary men by pro
fession were unknown to us. From every line of Clifton it is easily
aeen, that he was sensitive on this as on other subjects ; and as he
was above any apprehension for a support, he lashed about him in
tbe most fearless manner. That he had genius^ no 6ne who has

AMEItlCAN LITERATURE. 181

read his works wfll deny. His poetry was fomied in the school of
Dryden and Pope, and long study in the mastery of language, and
in maturing his thoughts, would, if his life had been spared, unques-
tionably have made him a poet worthy of being ranked with them ;
if not on an equality, (for this is to be obtained by a few only,) he
certainly would have been a distinguished follower of these great
English bards. In patriotick songs, in which most poets haye foiled,
there being but few good compositions in national songs to be found
in any language, he had considerable tact, as the following will
prore :

"Socd <rf'Coliimbia, qucnchtefNi spirit comet
Unroll thy standard to the sullen sky :
Bind on thy war-robes, beat the fiirious drum ;
Rouse, rouse thy lion heart, and fife thy eagle eye I
Dost thou not hear the hum of gath'ring war ;

Dost thou not know

The insidious foe
Yokes her gaunt wolves, and mounts her midnight ear I

Dost thou not hear thy tortured seamen's cries 7
Poor hapless souls in dreary d^geons laid ;
Towards thee they turn their dim imploring eyes ;
Alas! theynnk — and no kind hand to aid.

Thou dost, and every son of thine

Shan rest in guSty peace no mofe^

YHUlti noble rage^ they pent to join

The conflict's heat, the battle Mar.
Loose to the tempest let thy banner fly,
Rouse, rouse thy lien hearl^ and fire thy ea^ eyeP

If this ia not l^ie best of poetry, it is Yagh spbited sentiment for a
quaker. He saw, at that time, what he considered a crouchmg
tameness in the people of the United States, to the mighty and ter-
rifick power of France ; but he mistook party hesiti^on for national
imbecility, and seoned to forget that three thousand miles of water
rolled between as and the legicns of the Republiek, who^ hi frenzy,
were sweeping along through Germany, and covering the valle3r8
and hills of Italy. There were men, and intelligent and amiaUe
Ken too, whose dreams were ni^tly disturbed by images of French
armies ravagmg our country, and immolating every qpposer, 0rom
infancy to old age. It was literally the reign of terror among many
•f our reflecting part of the comnranity. In sudi a state of things
the arts were forgotten, and poetry could only breathe imprecations
Q 27

im LECTURES ON

Contemporary with Paine, Lathrop, and Prentiss, were several
writers of poetry of considerable note, and in the estimation of
some persons, if they were not so much known, were fully equal to
those who occupied the front rank in publick estunation. Jose^
Allen of W orcester, was a class-mate with Paine, and delivered a
poem at the Conmiencement in which he was graduated, that was
highly spoken of.

Isaac Story was about the age of Allen. He wrote a considera-
ble*number of occasional poems, under the signature of Peter
Quince, which were well received. They were written in imitation
of Peter Pindar ; but Story had more delicacy, if not so much wit,
as his original. These pieces were collected into a volume, and
have sufficient merit to place him among our poets of this age.
He died young, and at a moment when he was fast rising into
fame. His death was deeply lamented by the publick ; and with
the literati and professional men of the day, he was a great favourite.

Paul Allen , lately deceased, devoted most of his days to literary
pui^ts, and has in his course been a great contributor to the
stock of American literature, and a refiner of our taste in good
writing. For more than twenty years, he has been pouring out
prose and verse for the benefit of the publick in great honesty, pu-
rity, and good taste. Many of our periodicals have been enriched
with articles from his pen. Several of these journals he established,
or v^^as editor of, for sometime. He wrote boldly, but naturally, and
did much by example and precept towards breaking down that
sesquipedalian style that had become so prevalent in this coimtry,
by attempts to imitate Johnson's Rambler, and other works from
his pen. Such men as Paul Allen deserve a memoir of no inconsi-
derable length, written by some friend of taste and talents. The
changes in our literary taste and habits, during the time he was
engaged bs an author, would make a subject of deep interest, ac-
companied by the incidents in the life of an amiable man and an
elegant writer.

Seleck O^bornjs^a name known to all our readers of poetry; it
waslouna for many years going the rounds in the poets' comer of
every newspaper, from one end of the country to the other, and was
not unfrequently attached to morsels of exquisite taste. He was na-
turally an amiable man, but his temper became a little soured by
political contests ; a political arena is a miserable place for a
man of delicate or refined feelings ;— he grows acrimonious upon
repeated irritations ; and all this injures the temper of his muse.
ITie muse can follow, and has been found inspmng, the half-starved
wretch in his garret ; yea, has accompanied him to a dungeon and
softened the weight of his chains. She has gone with the hero to

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 183

the battle-field, and led side by side with honour and glory, has
waded with him through scenes of blood and death, and inspired
the song of victory. She has even sometimes looked in a court
of justice, and, without being chilled to death among judges
and lawyers ;— but never could she abide politicks, in the nature of
party feuds. In patriotick songs she has often had a magical in-
fluence, but her magick is all lost the moment she mingles in
party strife. Osborn discovered this, and in the selections he made
from his works for a volume, which he printed a few years since,
he left out all those poems that had the slightest party bearing in
them. This volume was printed at Boston, and contained some
very fine poetry ; but there never was a poet, who did not suffer
by having his fugitive productions brought together in a volume.
They wafted more reputation as they flew, than they will praise
when caught up and bound together. It is not the fault of the poet ;
it is in the minds of men ; who would not rather sit down, and read
Sir Richard Blackmore's Creation, through and through, than to be
confined to an equal number of pages in a Hymn Book, in which
there is generally some good poetry, and much devotion. This
volume of Osbom's, is among the best of our collections of this
kind, and is printed in such a form as to ensure its preservation in
our libraries.

Captain Spen ce. a gentleman whose manners, acquirements, and
disposition, made him the charm of every circle, was a poet of a fine
natural taste. While a midshipman and a junior lieutenant in the
navy, he amused himself in writing poetry of a sentimental cast,
which bore marks of a powerful intellect. The sea has not been,
as one might suppose it would be, a very fine scene to inspire
the votaries of song. Even Falconer wrote the Shipwreck, not on
shipboard, but from recollections of the dangers of the sea, while
he was safe on land. Captain Spense indulged himself but little
in the latter part of his life in writing verses, but he was well read ^
inf iJaglish poetryi':3g^dr makes up no small part of all that is j^
valuable in our language. The prose productions of the age of
Elizabeth, are scarcely ever read, while Kit Marlowe, Ben Jonson,
and Shakspeare, are in the mouths of every one. The work, said
to be from the pen of Mr. Spence, and I believe it was never denied
by him, was called Edwin the Wanderer.

John G. C. Brainard, who has lately deceased, was a poet of su-
I)eri6ur talents! The publick thought well of him, but did not
know him sufficiently to give him full credit for the high powers
of his understanding or the virtues of his heart. He was a native
of Connecticut, was graduated at Yale College in the class of 1815 ;
read law, and in regular time opened his office ; but felt too

184 LEiCTURES ON

strongly the woriungs of his genius to attend to clients if they
called, and too proud to seek them, if they did not ; and, as is often
the case with such gifted men, hurried himself into an editorship.
The Connecticut Mirror, for several years bore marks of his geniua
and varied learning. His temperament was poetical, restless, and
inclined to melanchcdy ; but he so often disguised this, by occar
sional exuberance of spirits, so common to minds "attuned to
strange fancies," that it was not generally known that he ever in-
dulged in gloomy thoughts. In his hours of attick flow, he was a
most excellent companion, both entertaining and instructive, but
even in these hours of freedom and pleasure, he never offended
decency or morals, but poured out his soul in a stream of pure feel-
ing and delicacy. In a youthful mind struggling with difficulties,
there is often found concision, skepticism, and every tumult and
doubt respecting this and another world ; — at one moment he sees
a fiend on the blast, with a vial of wrath, ready to pour it out on
every mortal head, particularly his own ; at another moment, the
clouds burst away, and the joyous rays of hope come on the sun-
beams to illumine and beautify every thing; again the evil spirits and
the good spirits commingle, and his bosom is torn with conflicting
emotions. Such are the wayward feelings of youthful genius.
< Time, severe occupation, philosophy with her deep streams of wis-
\ dom, and religion with her holy influences, are all necessary to
;. calm, to direct, and to keep hiwi^ih the way of usefulness and ho-
^ nour. He did not live long enough to erect such a reputation as
he had talents for. His poetry seemed to breathe a presentiment
that this world was not to be his, for any considerable length of
time ; nor was it. He died on the 20th of September, 1828, in the
thirty-third year of his age. His efiusions were printed in a vo-
lume before his death, and it is left for us to conjecture what he
might have done had he lived, from what he had accomplished
before his death ; and who is prepared to say that this would not
have been much ?

There is one little anon3nnous fragment of American poetry ex-
tant, which I will ask permission to insert for its truth and loveli-
ness. It is a proposed addition to that exquisite Elegy in a Country
Churchyard, by Gray. The author thought that Gray had not
given the subjects of his muse enough of a religious character to
make the charm complete, and offered the following amendment,
although any amendment may be inadmissible, yet what was offered
should be preserved. The author suggested, lliat it should follow
the stanza beginning,

" Far from the maddening crowd's ignoble strife."

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 185

Would it mar the beauty of the ode if it were added? You must
judge.

No airy dreams their simple fioides fired,
No thirst for wealth, nor panting after fiune ;
But truth divine, sublimer hopes inspired.
And urged them onward to a nobler aim.

From every cottage, with the day arose
The hallowed vMce of s|nrit-breathing prayer }
And artless anthems, at the peaceful close,
like holy incense, charmed the evening air<

Though they, each tome of human lore unknown,
The brilliant path of science never trod,
The sacred volume claimed their hearts alone,
Which taught the way to glory and to God.

Here they from Truth's eternal fountain drew
The pure and gladdemng waters day by day ;
Learnt, since our days are evil, fieet^ and few,
To walk in wisdom's bright and peaceful way.

In yon lone pile, o'er which hath sternly pass'd

The heavy hand of all-destroying Time,

Through whose low mouldering aisles now sighs the blast,

And round whose altars grass and ivy climb ;

They gladly thronged their grateful h3nnns to raise,
Oft as the calm and holy sabbath shone ;
The mingled tribute of their prayers and praise,
In sweet communion rose before the throne.

Here, from those honoured Hps, which sacred fire
From heaven's high chancery hath touched, they hear
Truths which their zeal inflame, their hopes inspire,
Give wings to &ith, and check affliction's tear !

When life flowed by, and like an angel, Death
Came to release them to the world on high,
Praise trembled still on each expiring breath,
And holy triumph beamed firom every eye.

Then gentle hands their " dust to dust" consign ;
With quiet tears, the simple rites are said ;
And here they sleep, till at the trump divine^
The earth and ocean render up their dead. *
Q2 23

186 LECTURES ON

It was fashionable in the latter days of Darwin, and in the early
days of Southey, to speak lightly of the productions of Pope. The
criticks found that he had sometimes indulged his resentments in
the Dunciad, and doomed several characters to infamy who de-
served a better fate. The small fry of authors who wished to hide
their feebleness in the extravagancies of sentiment then becoming
popular by the influence of the French Revolution, and the influx
of German literature, which had not been well examined, nor the
chaff separated from the wheat, supported by a few men of genius,
who had taken up some erroneous impressions on the canons of
poetry, did, for a while, obscure the fame of Pope ; and it seemed,
for a season, that he would at length be found in his own Dunciad.
They attacked him as a writer wanting in variety and genius, and
boldly called his morals in question. The clouds which obscured
his brightness did not last long, but were soon dispersed, and his
genius beamed in its ancient majesty. Byron would yield to no
one in his reverence of Pope : and almost all the present poets of
England, who are the arbiters of taste, have come into the opinion
that Pope was a genius and a poet, such as it is seldom the good for-
tune of nations to produce.

This may be said to be an age of poetry. There are many living
writers whose works have secured them wealth and fame, while
they were able to enjoy it. Southey's muse has brought forth epicks
as common songs j and Scott, before he commenced the Waverly
novels, produced Marmion, the Lay of the Last Minstrel, Rokeby,
the Lady of the Lake, and the Vision of Don Roderick, with other
pieces, in quick succession. Byron from his boyhood never laid
aside his pen until the wrongs of Greece seized his heart. Childe
Harold, the Corsair, the Gaiour, the Bride of Abydos, Cain, and
Don Juan, followed each other as rapidly as the French legions
which crossed the Alps with Napoleon. Montgomery, Coleridge,
Crabbe, and Moore, have been busy. The polished Campbell, and
the Shakspearian Baillie, have not been idle.

The poets of our own country have had these fine models before
them ; and they have shown the world that they have profited by
being in such a school. There is at present much talent, ambition,
and information among our poets, and they are getting rid of the
ridiculous impressions which have long been prevalent, that genius
is every thing, and information nothing, in making a poet. The
prophets of old had to build the altar, and lay on it the wood, before
they called the fire from heaven to kindle the flame and bum the
offering.

My intention, at first, was to have mentioned many of our living
poets ^ two only have I named, Freneau and Trumbull, and these

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 187

pahiotick bards are so near, in the course of nature, to the confines
of a better world, that I felt no reluctance to speak of them ; but on
mature reflection, I gave up the thought of bringing forward any
more, fearing that it would be premature to discuss their merits in a^
work like this, as a fair criticism on these would be in a measure
making comparisons between them. I have no hesitation in saying,
that we abound in good poets, whose writings will remain to make
up the literature of a future age ; nor would I yield my admiration
for their productions to others who are prodigal of praise whenever
their works appear ; but at this time I am not prepared to say whe-
ther Pierpont or Bryant be the greater poet, or whether Percival
has higher claims to immortality than his brethren of the " encJumted
grounds and holy dreams ;" nor whether she of " the hanks of the
Connectixmt,^^ whose strains of poetick thought are as pure and
lovely as the adjacent wave touched by the sanctity of a Sabbath's
mom, be equal to her tuneful sisters, Hemans and Landor, on the
other side of the water, or superiour to her more sprightly rivals
on. thi».

When all classes were busy in building up our national and state
governments, the fine arts were neglected ; and a few only knew
how necessary the cultivation of them was to refine and polish a
nation. Even in England, until within half a century, any devotion
to them was considered inconsistent with weighty duties. Wind-
ham, Talbot, Murray, and Pulteney, " every muse gave o'er," before
they entered the temple of justice, and assumed the causes of their
dieaits ; and Blackstcme dropt a tear at parting with his muse at the
vestibule of Westminster Hall. P arana, of our own country, as
great a name as either, who thought that he was made more de-
cidedly for a poet than for any other calling, confined himself to
writing a few occasional pieces, generally on some merry-making
occurrence, not venturing to trust himself further ; while he read
with avidity every line that was published on this, or the other side
of the Atlantick, in English, French, Italian, or Latin. It is not so
now ; it is thought quite possible to devote a few hours of relaxation
j^m severe studies to the fine arts, without any fear of being se-
duced from graver duties. Opinions and taste are changed in many
other respects. The good household dames of other days would
have turned shuddering from the sight of Cupids, and Yenuses, and
Graces, which the maiden of the present day, pure as the stainless
snow, will sit before whole hours, engaged in her innocent drawing
lessons. The mind, properly disciplined, is capable of sustaining^*
much ; as the body in full health can support heat and cold. There '
are no sickly images while there is a sane mind in a sane body.-
Numerous instances of the facility of passing from severe labour to

J" «■-

193 LECTURES ON

Haley, in hia poetical episUes on the painters, after naming West
and his works as he should be named, pays this fine and highly
deserved compliment on Copley :

" With kindred power, a rival hand socceedfl^
For whose jost &me, expiring Chatham pleads ;
Like Chatham's language, luminous and bold,
Thy colours, Copley, the dread scene unfold,
When that prime spirit, by whose guidance hurPd|
Britain's avenging thunder aw'd the world ;
In patriot cares^ employed his parting lnreath|
Struck in his field of dvic fiime by death;
And freedom, happy in the tribute paid
By art and genius to so dear a shade,
Shall own, the measure of this praise to fill,
The awful subject equalled by thy skilL''

It is difficult to speak of our coimtryman. Sir Bepjam in Wj^
for his talents were only discovered in this country, but cherished
in England. There, for more than half a century, he was a favourite
of the British nation, and was patronized by its king. He was
admired for the amenity of his manners and the purity of his life, as
well as for his excellence m his profession. He was true to his patrons,
but he never forgot his country, and was the instructer, friend,
and father of the young Americans who flocked to see him, and get
advice and direction from him. Perhaps we take too much credit
for West as our coimtryman ; for, most certainly, the country that
adopts, supports, and honours a man, has a better claim to him than
that which gave him birth, and but little more. He was equally
the favourite of kings and poets, and both bound his brow widi
their appropriate wreaths. Like Michael Angelo, he lived long
to be the friend and patron of the enterprising yoimg artists of his
own and other countries, and he was affectionate and brotherly to
the very last hours of his life. The tribute paid him in the " Epis-
tle on the Painters," is not only correct, but in good taste.

"Supremely skill'd the varied group to place,
And range the crowded scene with every grace ;
To finish parts, yet not impair the whole.
But on the impassion'd action fix the soul ;
Through wondering throngs the patriot chief to guid^
The shame of Carthage, as of Rome the pride;
Or while the bleeding victor yields his breath,
Gives the bright lesson of heroick death.
Such are thy merits. West, by virtue's hand,
Built on the human heart, thy praise shall stand,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 19B

THiile dear to glory in her guaidbn fiuie^
The names of Regulos and Wdfe remain."

The patriarch painter descended full of honours to the grave,
leaving a reputation of which both the country of his birth and of
his adoption were proud. His biography has been written with
taste and interest by Gralt, and sketches of him are numerous.

During the revolutionary war, the fine arts in this country were
merged in arms, and nothing was thought of, but matters of suste-
nance and defence. The few who had come to a resolution to
devote themselves to the fine arts, and make them a profession, had
escaped from the scenes of blood and strife, and were seeking
repose and instruction in other countries.

Soon after the peace of 1783, Johnson, who had been a brave
officer of our army, took up the pencil as a profession, and made
his head quarters at Boston. Johnson was a man of a powerful
mind, and had a correct eye and a steady hand, but was, from the
nature of his education deficient in drawing, the great defect of
self-taught artists. The science of drawing was more rare with
our artists formerly, than the faculty of colourmg well ; Johnson
has, however, left many portraits which are strong likenesses, and
are more valuable to the present generation than fine paintingik
would be, if they were but indifferent likenesses of our fathers.

.SSS2)?S#-^ ^''^i^istwre painter, was contemporary with Johnson,
ana took some fine miniatures of the people of that age. Had his
colours been less evanescent, his fame would have been niore dif-
fused and permanent. He was at times very happy in catching &
good resemblance in the size of half an inch iii diameter ; som^
of these, set in finger rings, have been preserved, and give him h
claim to be remembered among the artists of his day.

Among the most distinguished of American painters was Gilbert
Stuart, who has lately deceased. He was a native of Rhode Island,
aiSd, after leaving college, made up his mind to follow painting as i
profession, and not being able to find a proper master in this coun-
try, Copley being then gone to England, he embarked for that
country, in 1775, and put himself under the instruction of Mr. W^,
who was then in the zenith of his fame. Stuart soon became a
favourite pupil of his master, and graduated from his school with a
high reputation as a portrait painter ; he ranked second to no one, in
London, but Sir Joshua Reynolds. While in the metropolis, he
had the good fortune to become acquainted with Burke, Fox, Sheri-
dan, and with many of their associates. These men were not only
patrons of the arts, but the friends of artists. He painted several
of them in a fine style, which spread his fame fax and wide. Frcuii

194 LECTURES ON

London he went to Ireland, and spent sev^al years in Dublin. In
this city he was without a rival, and had as much business as he
could attend to. In the polished society of that hospitable and
tasteful place he was a great favourite ; and he relished the wit and
gaiety of the Irish beyond measure. Painters seldom feel content-
ed to remain many years in one place. They are anxious to catch
the admiration of many cities and diflferent classes of society, to
see new faces, and to study expression in every variety. At this
time, Washington was, as his name ever will be, the idol of every
lover of liberty, and the world were anxious to have a correct like-
ness of him. The Whigs of England were desirous 'that Stuart
should come to the United States for this purpose. They had seen
what were called likenesses of this great man, from painters, en-
gravers, and sculptors, but still were not satisfied ; nothing, as yet,
had been produced that reached their idea of him. When Stuart
arrived at the city of Washington, the great man had retired from
all office, and was in private life at Moimt Vernon. He had been
so often annoyed by every fledgling artist, that he came to the deter-
mination to sit no more for any one ; but Stuart's fame, and Mrs.
Washington's solicitations, overruled his resolution, and the hero
and statesman was again seated for his picture. In the chair for
the painter, Washington was apt to fail into a train of thought, and
become abstracted from the things around him, and of course most
of the likenesses of him, show more of gravity of muscle, than of
the divinity of intelligence. When he sat to Stuart, as the latter
has often stated, an apathy seemed to seize him, and a vacuity
spread over his countenance, most appalling to the padnter. The
best portrait painter of the age, was now to take the likeness of the
greatest man of all ages ; and the artists and the patriots of all
countries were interested in it. To have failed iA getting a good
likeness would have been death to the artist's fame, and a perpetual
source of mortification to the people of the country. Stuart was,
like Washington, not easily overcome ; he made several fruitless
attempts to awaken the heroick spirit in him, by talking of battles^
but in vain ; he next tried to warm up the patriot and sage, by turn-
ing the conversation to the republican ages of antiquity ; this was
equally unsuccessful. At length the painter struck on the master-
key, and opened a way to his mind which he has so happily trans-
ferred to the canvass with the features of his face. In the whole
of this picture, in every limb, as well as feature, the martial air of
the warrior chief, is admirably mingled with the dignity and
majesty of the statesman and sage. It was a proper period in the
life of Washington for a good picture. The bloom and beauty of
youth have no majesty or greatness in them on the canvass; ma-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 105

turity and gravity are necessary to give a picture a proper eflfect ;
the lines of thought must be in the face ; the marks of dangers
braved, and duties done, must be there also. Nor should the
painter wait imtil decrepitude and the dullness of age approaches.
There is a period in the life of man, when Nature seems to stop,
having matured her work, to contemplate it herself, before she
suffers Time to begm his ravages. This was that moment. The
picture, like the original, was peerless. The artist himself copied
it several times with great success. It has been copied a thousand
times by others, and every copy contains something of the first
likeness— no small proof of its excellence and truth.

Stuart tarried a year or two in the city of Washington, and
during the time, painted John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Madi-
son, and many other distinguished men of our country. He re-
moved from Washington to Philadelphia, which was then greatly
in advance of the other cities and great towns in the United States,
in every branch of the fine firts. Here, too, he was a favourite in
society as well as in his profession. He often spoke of his resi-
dence in Philadelphia with great pleasure, and frequently began
some of his anecdotes with — "When I resided in the Athens of
America." His next remove was to Boston, where he resided dur-
ing the remainder of his life. At first he did not, perhaps, think
of making this city a x)ermanent residence ; but there have never
been many, who were comfortably situated in society there, who
ever wished to change it for any other place in this country. For
several years after his coming to Boston, he was overwhelmed with
business ; many had to wait months for an opportunity of sitting
to him ; and even in his latter years he frequently had more calls
than he could answer, notwithstanding a number of painters, quite
^ninent in their profession, had collected in Boston, and were active
and attentive in their professional pursuits. All, in his line, looked
up to him as their head, and felt no jealousy of him, for his pre-
eminence was generally acknowledged. Most of the opulent
femilies of Boston have pictures from his pencil ; a house is hardly
considered as properly furnished, or certainly not complete in its
ornaments, without some head by Stuart. Although he often ex-
pressed a strong desire to do something in the historical way to
leave behind him, yet he never found time for the purpose. In
some of the back groimds of his portraits, he has sketched some
emblematick outlines with admirable effect. These sketches go
far to show what he might have done in the historical line, if he
had pursued it.

The munber of his portraits is wonderful, and are, in general,
fine likenesses ; some few arc failures ; but " Homer sometimes

106 LECTURES ON

nodsJ'^ He had the power of giving the best expression of a face.
The mind and character of the original seems to breathe from his
canvass; and if there be a fault in his best pictures, it is, that he some-
times, in the plentitude of his power in Uie art, threw a ray of hia
own genius into a countenance in which nature had given no indi-
cation that she had stolen the fire from heaven to light it up. For
forty years, or more, he stood at the head of his profession as a
painter of the human face divine.

In his person, Stuart was rather larger and. his movements, in
the latter part of his life, were slow and heayy, but not ungracefuL
His manners had something of the fon^ality of the old school ;
but it was evident, at the first blush, thai, he had been conversant
with good society. He loved to display, his powers as a conversa-
tionist, and to come in friendly collision with intellig;ence and wil,
in order to sparkle and shine. He was sometimes a little fastidious
and eccentrick : but he never lost the manners of a gentleman on
any occasion. His literary acquirements were of a high order, for
a professional man, constantly ev^ployed ; but his early education
was good, and the foundations of a classical education were well
laid. His penetration was acute ; for he saw at a glance the quali-
ties of the mii^d of the person who came only to have an image of
his person struck out He had often accurately weighed the intel-
lect of his sitting subject before he had fkushed the mechanical
operation of measuring the size of his head. He reasoned upon
the principles of his profession with a depth of philosophy worthy
of a master ; and he always conten^^ thali a regard shoi^d be had
to the moral as well as physical, in making a just portrait of a man.
The capacities of his art were all known to him, and he. ridiculed
the numerous futile attempts to go beyond them.

The lives and works of the great artists of all ages were fiunilior.
to. him as his pallet. He discoursed upon their excellences, defects^
and peculiarities, as one who had read and examined them all most
thoroughly. His eloquence was peculiar and attractive ; his voijce
was strong and deep ; his enunciation clear and distinct ; and hiS:
countenance came in aid of his voice, for his features were bold and
lion-like, and no stranger ever passed him without mentally saying,.
" That is no ordinary man." It was a treat to see him in his be^
humour: for he was full of anecdote ; and told a story with such
neatness, precision, point, and elegance of language, that it oftoik
happened, that those who came to admire his painting, went away
charmed with his eloquence. By the alchymy of his genius, he dis-
tilled the essence of every topick of conversation, and gave a spirit
and flavour to even playAilness and trifling. Titles^ wealth, and
beauty, at whose shrinks the world pay their devotions, had no

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 197

controlling influence over him ; he was too much self-concentrated
and too full of " the sin for which fell the angels," to do homage to
any thing but commanding talents, and these devoted to letters and
the arts. He had no respect for those engaged in the ordinary business
of life ; I mean that respect the world pays, and ought to bestow on
prudence, economy, calculation, and tlurift. Nor was he very much
disposed to give a great share of praise to those who became distin-
guished rather by industry than by superior abilities ; he really did,
or effected to despise all elaborate niceties and painfid finishing, for
he cared for none of these himself; not that he was an advocate
for careless and rapid productions, but he looked for the touches of
genius, and often remarked that artists of ordinary capacity mistook
vjork for study. He thought no man should be found among the
sons of the prophets, without a good share of the true spurit of in*
spiration; and did not hesitate, at times, when the world were
running after some new artist,, to say, with some little bitterness^
^ That man had better have continued his pursuit for his father's
lost cattle, than to have come among the prophets !" His opinions,
however, of the works of young men, w^re, in general, candid, and
often kind, if the authors were modest and desirous of instruction;
but upon the pert and impudent, his satire was of the keenest sort;
it came in all forms, of irony, epigram, and scourge, until the dul-
lest brain was made to understand, and the thickest hide to feeL
It was seldom that he was roused to resentment ; but, when he was^
his invective was fierce and terrible. He was too proud to seek
admiration, but well-timed compliment was not lost on him ; a love
of it makes up a part of the character of every great artist.

Fickleness is an ingredient that is frequently mingled with taste
and refinement Athens, in her poudest.days, gave strange evi-
dences of this truth ; and the community in which Stuart spent the
latter part of his days, has, vnth. some justice, been charged with
it also. But if ever, in the restlessness of caprice, any one re-
marked that Stuart was growing old ; that his eye had lost some-
thing of its accurary, and his hand had become tremulous ; or that
increasing infirmities had made him testy, the people would not
listen for a moment to any such remarks ; they would not give up
their favoiurite. These rumours of the decay of his faculties some-
times reached the ears of Stuart, and suddenly some great effort of
his pencil would be brought out, that showed at once that the inti-
mations were groundless, and proved that envy, caprice, or slander,
had no power over his deep rooted reputation.

The errours of men of genius — for when were men of genius

without errours? are generally injurious only to themselves, and

should be buried with them ; but tiieir merits should be embalmed
R2

106 LECTURES ON

by their epitaphs, written by kindred spirits, and engraven on
monuments and columns, and transferred to the page of history, to
make up a part of their country's glory. Envy and ill nature often
magnify these errours, and set them down, and con them by heart,
which, when rightly imderstood, are only the offspring of irritable
nerves and delicate fibres ; and should be given over by the moralist
and biographer, to the consideration of the physician j for they are
mostly diseases of a physical nature.

He was impatient of criticism upon his works, even from the
choice spirits who surrounded him ; and in the last place of his resi-
dence, he had not a few of them ; and it is to be presumed that in
other cities he had as many. They did not, with all their taste and
talents, dare to venture farther than just hint a defect, or an omis-
sion ; and that he never received very graciously, even if his good
sense induced him to adopt the suggestion. But if ignorant or vain
patronizing sitters began to criticise, or find fault, he perhaps parried
the first attempts with a delicate sarcasm, or a sneer, half concealed
by a smile ; but if this did not ox)erate as an estoppel, and the remarks
were repeated, he turned upon them with that resentful and appal-
ling directness, that either produced silence or a quarrel. He would
not bear any flippant connoisseur about him. Numerous instances
have been related, and many of them believed, of his having resent-
ed a hasty word from men of the first standing in society, by refus-
ing to finish a picture, and nothing would ever induce him to touch
it again. One of these pictures, on which a dandy criticism pro-
duced a quarrel, and which is unfinished still, is one of exquisite
beauty; it is three views of the beautiful face of a celebrated dame,
who was then just married to a foreign magnate. It is but justice,
however, to say, that it was not the lady who made the offensive
remarks, but her dapper husband, who foimd fault with the drapery.
"That you can buy," said the indignant artist, "at any milliner's
shop in the city." This happened while Stuart resided in Wash-
ington. He contended that no artist should ever submit to these
vexations ; that they should, one and all, set their faces against them.
He often remarked, that Haley, who wrote a good deal of tame
poetry, should be forgiven for all this, and for lavishmg so much
praise on Romney, for the following lines on the painter's evils :

" For when the canvass, with the mirror's truth,
Reflects the perfect form of age or youth,
The fond affections of the partial mind,
The eye of judgement with delusions hlind;
Each mother hids him brighter tints employ.
And giTe more spirit to her booby boy ;

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 199

Nor can the painter, with his utmost art,
Express the image in the lover's heart ;
Unconscious of the change the Seasons bring,
Autumnal beauty asks the rose of Spring ;
And vain self-love, in every age the same,
Will fondly urge some visionary claim ;
The luckless painter, destin'd to submit,
Mourns the lost likeness, which he once had hit ;
And, doom'd to groundless censure, bears alone
The grievous load of errours not his own."

To one who works for gam alone, these things are no evils ; he
cares nothing for them, but yields to every suggestion ; is a kind
good man, is admired, gets his fees, and thinks no more of his work,
nor of its destiny, which, probably, is to hang a while in the par-
lour, thence to be removed to the garret, and from there pass off to
oblivion by damps or rats ; but to such a painter as Stuart, who
fondly hoped, and firmly believed, that he was painting for imbom
ages, and that his common pictures would be sought for and valued
as a Rubens or a Guido, these paltry criticisms were gall and worm-
wood for the moment, but were never remembered afterwards, or,
if they were, they were only called up, for the amusement of some
of his friends, in an hour of relaxation or merriment.

The fame of Stuart is secure : no chance can destroy it. His por-
traits are too numerous, and are too widely scattered, to be lost by
fire or flood. Some of them will remain under any circumstances;
and he has painted many men of distinction, in their day and gene-
ration, whose reputation will go down to posterity with his. There
is a sort of tacit contract between a great man in the literary, politi-
cal, or scientifick world, and his painter, if he, too, be distinguished,
to join hand and hand, and present themselves to future ages to-
gether. On Stuart's paintings, his contemporaries have given a
verdict, and it is on record, " that his likenesses are admirable ;"
and other times shall pronounce them fine paintings. He has not
wasted his strength on dress and drapery, which is often admired
by those it was intended to please or flatter, and in the course of a
generation or two, is a subject of amusement to the descendants of
the stately dame they adorn or encumber. They laugh at the niceties
of ruff" or stomacher, which cost weeks of labour to artists. Stuart
wisely brought all his talents, and all the powers of his art, to bear upon
the human countenance, which, amidst all the varieties of the race
of man, in every climate, and every age of the world, still wears the
image of his M^ker. The seal which gave assurance of a man has
never been broken or eflaced. It was not that Stuart wanted the

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art of painting most excellent drapery. In the picture of Wash-
ington, painted for the artist's native state, and which adorns their
hall of legislation, the drapery, furniture, and accompaniments, are
considered superiour to the figure of Washington itself, which is one
of Stuart's best paintings. He was wise in one other respect. He
painted with permanent colours. If they were not so beautiful at
first sight, as the delicate lakes and carmines, they were put on with
a full faith in their durability. He seldom or never spoke of his
colours without alluding to the melancholy fact, that most of Sir
Joshua's paintings had faded, and were now out of sight.

It is often asked, of what school was your great painter ? He would
acknowledge no master ; but if what the ancients have told us of
Parrhasius and Aristides be true, he had much of their manner and
spirit, and no small share of the former's self-esteem. Most certainly
he had nothing of the present Italian or French schools in his com-
positions. Himself, his works, his taste, his conversation, his tone,
were all masculine ; so deeply masculine, that, in but a very few
instances, did he ever succeed in making a fine picture of a great
beauty. The character of so great an artist deserves a minute bio-
graphy ; but this is not within the plan of my work. It is said that
the artists are about to erect a monument to his memory. If this
be done, may some learned and tasteful brother— Trumbull, Alston,
or some other one who knew him well — write his epitaph, in the
spirit of admiring truth ; and make his biography a portrait that
may bear to be placed in the Temple of Taste, along side the pro-
ductions of his penciL He died at the advanced age of seventy-four,
in the full possession of his faculties.

As a miniature painter, the reputation of E4w^^iEr^^M^bg>j2e,
formerly of Newport, Rhode Island, stands first of all who have
come forward in this line of the art. I had prepared a short me-
moir of the early history of his life, from the best sources in my
power to command ; but, on receiving some facts of his rise and
progress in his profession, from a literary gentleman of Newport,
which, from his character, and from the means he had of obtaining
them, cannot fail to be interesting to all ; for they come, as it were,
from the nursery, and the school-room, and the mansion house,
with the stamp of genuineness on them. But as I shall reserve this
for some more ample page, I will make a few observations on an
artist, who was the first that ever gave me the slightest taste for
the delicate touches of the miniature painter. It has generally
been considered, that miniature painting was of an order less, in
the scale of genius, than portrait painting. It has been said to com-
pare with it, as the sonnet does with the ode ; but I could never see
fhe force of the remark -, why it should not require as much taste

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 301

and genius to paint a picture " in little," as in great, I cannot un-
derstand. The image of the original must be as accurately caught,
and as faithfully delineated ; the touch must be more nice, and the
tints more delicate; a susceptibility of the beautiful and the re-
fined must be more requisite in the miniature than the portrait or
historical painter ; and it is necessary that he should study nature
more minutely ; the exquisite tints of the flower or the pebble are
to be examined by him with an intensity that cannot be required in
one who sweeps with his eye the rude crag and lofty mountain,
and catches the bold features of romantick scenery ; nor of one who
paints a full sized man. It has been said to be a rule of nature, to
send taste to reside with beauty, or at least to allow him to learn
his first lessons where she is to be found ; and the history of Mal-
bone is in accordance with this principle ; for the shores of Greece
never presented more beautiful subjects for the pencil than those
on which the artist first opened his eyes ; and he has done honour
to his birth place, for perhaps there never was an artist, certainly
never one so little acquainted with the rules of art, who gave such
ethereal touches to his paintings as Malbone. With the most exact
likenesses, he seemed to avoid all the coarse, earthly particles in
his subjects, leaving only enough of matter to express the intellec-
tual spirit and character they contained. Malbone's mind, like a
fine piece of wax, seemed first to take the impression of that which
he was to transfer to the ivory ; and then it was found there, co-
loured by nature in her loveliest manner. The early part of Mal-
bone's education could not be considered profound or classical, but
such were his habits of critical observation, and close attention to
study, that he was soon distinguished for his intellectual acquire-
ments. He perhaps dwelt too much on the refined portions of
knowledge to make a robust mind ; but there is more power in a
delicate one than is generally imagined ; as one bred in the bowers
of learning, maybe as lofty and commanding as one accustomed to
the toils of the chase or war. He was much admired in society ; for
his conversation was rich and refined, and it never failed to charm,
his life being as pure as his taste. He had seen too much of men to
be bigoted or vain ; and he polished his own by the manners of all;
but copied none.

Malbone was unfortunate, at times, in his colours, although he
made many chemical attempts to improve the old colouring ;
and it is to be deeply regretted, that in some of his finest minia-
tures, a winding-sheet resemblance is all that remains of her who
was once as beautiful as an angel. Other paintings of his may
have been more lasting than those I have seen. The touches of
the finest pencil, in these Ming colours, are but little better than

202 LECTURES ON

the words of the orator who gives his eloqucnice to Echo, and trusts
to the remembrance of that alone for immortality. He lived before
the time had fairly come for the just appreciation of such talents.
The generation that achieved the revolution, had enough to do to
fight it out, and in repairing their fortunes after the conflict was
over ; they and their children were busy in fixing every constitu-
tional principle, and guarding their rights by every form of law ;
and those who were not directly engaged, were pursuing commerce
and agriculture, and laying the foundation of manufactures ; there-
fore, there were but few who could justly appreciate such a delicate
artist as Malbone.

Another artist of some celebrity in his time, was Edwa rd Savage.
Feeling the inspiration of a painter in his native land, he procured
means and went abroad, and put himself for a while under the di-
rection of West, and travelled into Italy. Before he left this coun-
try he had painted the Washington family, which, as a print, is now
found in every part of this country. Finding no person willing, or
sufficiently at leisure, to undertake the engraving of this picture, he
took up the graver himself, and made a very respectable work of it,
for that age, when there were but few good engravings published
in London. Those who knew Savage always spoke of him as a
man of diversified talents and great industry ; but he divided his
time among so many things, that he could not do himself justice in
any one of them ; yet he did all he undertook to do much better
than could be expected of one engaged in so many matters of taste
and art. He commenced a museum first in New-York, and then
brought it to Boston ; and it is the same which now forms a part
of that extensive collection, the New-England Museum. He died
in retirement, having devoted his latter days to agricultural pur-
suits.

Col. John TVumbiJl^who is now living, was the contemporary
of'Stiiart and Johnson, an acquaintance of Copley's, and a student
with West. His life has been more full of incident, than his bro-
ther artists', for he has been soldier, politician, and traveller, as
well as painter. In him the love of his art was early developed.
It began in the nursery ; and before he was prepared to enter col-
lege he had painted several pictures ; and while at Cambridge, in
his leisure moments, he indulged himself in painting. Some of
these efforts, before he had received a single lesson, were seen by
Copley, who bestowed upon them a cordial smile of approbation.
He then had but a faint expectation of making the art his main
pursuit. After leaving college in 1773, still quite yoimg, he went
to his father's house in Connecticut, and was there employed in
the acquirement of general knowledge, and meditating on his fu-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 203

ture course in life. The times were then difficult. The political
storms were gathering rapidly, and the learned professions pro-
mised but little. A belief that an appeal to arms would be neces-
sary, induced all the citizens to be active in getting a knowledge
of their use, and they turned their eyes every way for instructers
in the art of war. Trumbull, like Knox, Brooks, Hamilton, and
many other spirited young men, had turned his attention to the
study of the elements of military tacticks, and was greatly in ad-
vance of his fellow-citizens in general, in this branch of informa-
tion ; and on his joining a train-band, they made him an officer, and
he began his drill ; and in June, 1775, he was found a Brigade
Major in the Connecticut line, at the seat of war, discharging his
duty. During that summer he was under the eye of Washington,
who promoted him, for his talents, to be his aid, the second he had
appointed; Mifflin had come on in that capacity from Pennsylvania
with him. In the fall of 1776, he was appointed adjutant-general of
the northern army. In this capacity he acted until the autumn of
1777, with great credit to himself, and advantage to the army, in bring-
ing the raw recruits, then pouring in at the north, to a tolerable
state of discipline. While in this office, he thought himself super-
seded, which his pride could not brook, and he resigned his com-
mission and returned to his native state. Still the professions held
out no alluring prospect, and he made up his mind to become an
artist.

As soon as this determination was fixed, he made his way to
England, to place himself under the guidance and instruction of his
countr3rman, Mr. West, then at the head of the artists in England.
Here he had sheathed his sword, and shut his ears to all political
strife, and was advancing his knowledge in the bosom of the arts;
his love of country was neither destroyed or abated, but everything
justified, yea, required his silence ; and in quiet he was going on,
when, at the close of 1780, the news reached England that Andre
was taken and executed. The ministers received the news in a
paroxysm of rage, and the first impression on their minds was re-
venge. They had received an intimation that the young American
gentleman, under the instruction of Mr. West, had held, in the
American army, a rank similar to that of Andre in the British.
This was enough ; an order was issued to seize Col. Trumbull and
confine him to the tower, on the principle of the lex talionis. He
was then brought before a board of commissioners for an examina-
tion, in order to obtain all the facts in the case. The youthful officer
bore himself proudly before them ; but freely stated to them the
whole course of his military life ; and the causes of his leaving it ;
avowed his unceasing attachment to his country, with a full belief

sot LECTURES ON

of her success in the struggle ; and urged, yea, dared them to an
immediate trial. He gave them also to understand, that his father
was at that time governor of the state of Connecticut, and had seve-
ral hundred prisoners under his charge ; all these would be con-
aidered as hostages for his safety. This fearless course was rather
troubleeome to the premier ; he wished to allay the publick ferment,
and yet did not venture to put in jeopardy the lives of innocent
men, who might be in the hands of the Americans as prisoners.
No preparations were made for bringing Trumbull to trial, although
he demanded it as often as he could, A considerable portion of the
British nation considered his fate as sealed, and his death as certaui.
After a while he was removed to more comfortable quarters, but as
securely confined. Burmg his imprisonment. Fox, Burke, and the
leaders of the opposition, often visited him, but gave no decided
opinions on the course the ministry would pursue. At length it
was agreed that Burke should have an interview with Lord North.
Burke could always approach North, even in the bitterest moments
of party strife. They were both gentlemen and scholars, and these
characters, towards each other, they never forgot After this inter-
view, Trumbull was released on bail ; but an order instantly fol-
lowed for his departure forthwith. He went to France, and from
thence returned to America. Puring this difficulty, West was the
warm and unshaken friend of his pupil, and proved to him that his
virtues were as exalted as his talents, that his heart was as true and
steady as his hand. CoL Trumbull returned to England after the
peace of 1783, and was most graciously received by his old friends,
and patronized by them in his profession. During this visit he
painted the sortie of Gibraltar ; a production which Horace
Walpole pronounced the best that had ever been executed this side
the Alps.

After this period, for some years, Col. Trumbull was engaged in
political life ; first as secretary of legation to Mr. Jay, when he made
his treaty with Great Britain; and afterwards as one of the com-
missioners under that treaty with Mr. Gore and Plnckney, on the
part of the United States. Up to this period, and afterwards, before
he returned to the United States, several productions from his pencil
attracted the notice of the publick, and added to his reputation as an
artist, on this and on the other side of the water. But his political
life, and the details of his professional career, must be left to the bio*
grapher ; they are too voluminous for our lectures ; but it is proper
for me to notice the labours of Col. Trumbull that are now in the
possession of the nation, for they are Identified with our history and
his fame. The first of these pictures is the Declaration of in-
dependence. This as well as the other three are purely historical ;

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 205

there is no fiction in their composition. The canvass is large, and
the group numerous, forty-seven in number. It was a diiSicult sub-
ject for the pencil. It was, in a measure, a still life scene, solemn
and quiet — minds intent upon a great subject, but it was the same
to nearly all 5 for it was no triumph of party, but the determination
and decision of nearly the whole group. TTiose who doubted were
equally anxious as patriots; but only questioned the expediency of
the measure at that moment Decision is marked in every counte-
nance, and high-souled resolve is delineated in every feature. The
demeanour of the whole is unique, and the subsequent events have
given it the cast of political consequence it has now assumed. It
was only a bold and noble act then ; it is now a god-like one. In this
picture most of the likenesses were from life, and of course a great
many of the portraits of that august body have been preserved, which
could not otherwise have been effected ; for no one had enthusiasm
sufficient to set about making a gallery of them at that time. Most
of them, yea, all of them, with onlj;_one exoeptipa^ave gone down , ; f-
to join the congregation of thie dead since that peridcl ; and he stands
majestick in the lonely waste of ages. This picture has been often '^^^^
criticised ; but, like the rest of them, the more it is examined the
more it has been admired.

The surrender of the army under the command of Lieutenant Ge-
neral Burgoyne, has a martial air. It was intended by the painter to
have such an effect. Thepomp, pride, and circumstance of war, were
thrown into it, for it was an eventful day to the colonies. The solemnj
suppressed elevation of the spirits of the conqu^ors, the steadfast gaze
of ^^ young eyed wonder ;^^ ibr there were in that army but few who
had seen service before, and none perhaps who had seen the surrender
of an army, particularly a British army ; certainly none who had seen
so important a one. The autumnal sky, the sear and yellow leaf,
is exhibited as it should be, in this painting. The likenesses of these
heroes are faithful ; so very true, that an old soldier, examining this
picture, in the winter of eighteen hundred and twentynseven, pointed
out eleven faces which he knew, most of whom he had not seen
since that period, a lapse of nearly half a century. This speaks a
volume in favour of the truth of the picture. The number of figures
in the foreground is less than in the picture of signing the declara-
tion of independence, being only twenty-seven in number; but in
the distant view the troops of either army is seen, and this gives
great relief to the whole. The crest-fallen countenance of Bur-
goyne is very conspicuous. The group is not crowded, and
there seems space enough for all that was transacted at this impor-
tant crisis.

The taking of Cornwallis is of a similar character, but is
S

'«.»■

206 LECTURES ON

managed by the painter so as to appear quite unlike. This picture
is more easily read than the other, and there is no point about it
that can be mistaken, without the slightest reference to the expla-
natory account, excepting a few of the names of the French, and a
few of the American officers, whose countenances were not suffi-
ciently known to be readily named . The discipline of the American
troops, which surprised and astonished the English general, is ad-
mirably seen in this picture. Many of the American army were
then veterans in war, and they showed Earl Comwallis that against
such troops it would be in vain for the king his master to contend
any longer. There are thirty-four large figures in this picture, and
a fine background, exhibiting the British forces marching between
two lines of the victorious army to lay down their arms. A greater
number of that noble animal, the horse, were introduced than in the
picture of the taking of Burgo3me, which to many gives it more of a
military air. Many of the likenesses in this picture are also admi-
rable. This was the closing scene of the revolutionary war.

Washington resigning his Commission to Congress, is
the last of the four great pictures the property of the United States^
and is, perhaps, to most spectators, the most interesting of the whole^
rather, however, from its moral than natural sublimity. A warrior
in the prime of manhood, on whom the glow of manly beauty was
still to be seen ; who had accepted the command of an undisciplined
army, in every way unprepared for war, which had nothing but the
Justice of their cause, and an indomitable courage to support it ; and
who, after enduring with them every hardship and privation, had
now hastened to resign his commission, without rewards or stipu-
lations of honours from his countr3anen, was a scene unparalleled
in the history of nations. This scene exhibited the greatness of the
jmtriot, free from the vulgar ambition of the military chieftain ; a
triumphal car, or an ovation, decreed by his country, would have
diminished the effect of this solemn unostentatious ceremony,
which deserves to be handed down to the latest posterity, to show
how much above the level of ordinary greatness was the leader
of our armies in those perilous times. It is of importance to us
to retain the likenesses of some of this congress, which had then
become a small and feeble body, but still contained some excellent
men 5 but it is more important to preserve an accurate likeness of
General Washington, which this is said to be, by those who knew
him at that period of life. Stuart's picture of him was painted
several years afterwards, when a portion of the soldier was lost in
the statesman. Trumbull's was taken when Washington was un-
hamessmg from the fight, and the chivalrous spirit of the warrior

AMERICAN LITERATUHB. 207

was in every word and look. This likeness should be often copied
for those who wish to preserve his lineaments as a soldier.

It is to be deeply regretted that the opportunity of extending the
number of the remembrances of historical events, arising out of our
struggle for independence, should have been suffered to escape us.
We have only a third part of those which might have been obtained
and kept as rich memorials of that age. The veteran from whose
pencil we have had these four pictures, was obliged to end his la-
bours from false notions of economy arising up among our national
representatives, while his eye had not lost its accuracy, nor his hand
its steadiness. A youth of prudence has given him a vigorous old
age. Col. Trumbull is not only at the head of the historical painters
in this country, but is among our most accomplished gentlemen
and scholars. A fine early education, improved by travel, and
with more than half a century's intimate acquamtance with the
most polished and enlightened minds in Europe and America,
have enriched his understanding with vast stores of knowledge
upon almost every subject, have given to his manners ease and
grace, and to his style of conversation a charm and finish, that make
him the delight of all circles of fashion and taste in our country.
He connects the former with the present age, and is an honour to
both.

New institutions, it is said, develope new talents, or awaken those
which have lain dormant. The militia of the United States, which
was organized soon after the adoption of the Federal Constitution,
and which in some parts of the country grew up at once into a for-
midable body of well disciplined men, who were fond of every mili-
tary appendage, and prided themselves on their standards, every
company having a right to one. An emulation soon arose in the
militia, for those of great splendour and taste. The custom of carry-
ing a waving standard, made of silk or light stuff, was of eastern
origin. It is said that the custom was drawn from the standard of
Mahomet, which was the turban of a convert chieftain, who, on
espousing the prophet's cause, fixed it, on an emergency, to the
head of his lance, and unfurled it to the breeze. The standards of
the christian warriors were of a different appearance. Those of
the crusaders were small and square, and drawn tight over a frame.
The waving ensigns were first adopted by the maritime nations of
Europe, from the mussulmans',as being far more beautiful, and more
easily managed, than others ; and then they came into use among
the military forces of the same nations. We took our colours from
England ; but with true characteristick ambition, we have given it
a more magnificent expansion ; we were not confined by the laws
of any herald office. The Garter of Arms had nothing to do

90S LECTURES ON

with OUT northern or soutJiem ridings ; we had no fees to pay tot
armorial bearings, and no fears of forfeitures for trespass on ano-
ther's rights, or assumption of what was not our own. The inde-
pendent corps, as those who have certain privileges, have been
called with us, took great pains to appear, not only " completely
armed and equipt, as the law directs," but also to support a most
splendid uniform, and other imposing appendages. A superb ban-
ner was therefore indispensably necessary ; — to eflfect this, they em-
ployed painters of taste, whenever they could be found, to design
and paint them. Among the first painters in this branch was John-
son, whose talents we have spoken of in a preceding part of this
lecture ; but after a few years he was surpassed byjP eni^iinaQ*. He
has brought this style of painting to very great pefiection. hLs de-
signs are often classical and ingenious, and frequently have an ap-
propriate bearing upon the name of the corps, or on some circum-
stance of its history. The fashion has been prevalent for young
ladies to present these standards to military companies, with patri-
otick addresses, and eloquent prayers for the prosperity and success
of the brave defenders of the country ; and if but few opportunities
have been found for the youthful soldier to fulfil his promise to the
fiur — that he never would prove a recreant — ^not one particle of the
admiration bestowed on the beauty and elegance of the standard
was lost on the artist who painted it ; he became freshly inspired
by the smile of beauty, and the publick admiration.

Engraving is a sister art to painting, and follows her in every age.
This art has grown up among us with astonishing rapidity. Thirty
years since, there were not more than half a dozen engravers in the
United States, and these of a secondary order, as their works in our
periodicals of that age will show -, but since Bradford published the
Encyclopedia, the art has been cultivated with zeal in the United
States ; and there are now to be found a very considerable number
of engravers, whose works are admirable, and are held in high esti-
mation. A taste for fine engravings is extending far and wide in
our country, and patronage makes artists.

Sculpture is now attracting the attention of some of our young
men of talents, who have produced some fine specimens of the art
They will find encouragement, for there are every day exhibited
new proofs of the partiaUty of the opulent in this country for this
branch of the fine arts.

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 808

LECTURE XII.

But, then, it must be remembered, that these men were bred and edii-
caied in the principles of a free government. 'Twaa hence they derived
that high and manly spirit, which made them the admiration of after ages.

Habbis's Hbbmes.

'Tis Liberty, that is formed to nurse the sentiments- of great gcniuBea : to
inspire them with hope, to push forward the propensity of contest, one with
another, and the generous emulation of being the first in rank.

LONGINUS.

A good orator should pierce the ear, allure the eye, and invade the mind
of his hearer.

Words are not all, nor matter is not all, nor gestures ; yet together they
are. 'Tis most moving in an orator, when the soul seems to speak as well
as the tongue.

Surely, nothing decks an orator more, than a judgement, able to conceive
and utter.

The scriptures are penned in a tongue of deep expression ; wherein
almost every word hath a metaphorical sense, which does illustrate by some
allusion.

Nor is it such a fault as some make it, now and then to let a philosopher
or a poet come in and wait, and give a trencher to this banquet of eloquence.
St. Paul is a precedent for it.

I never knew a good tongue, that wanted ears to hear it.

I will honour sacred eloquence in her plain trim ; but I wish to meet her
in her graceful jewels, not that they give addition to her goodness, but that
she is more persuasive in working on the soul she meets with.

Owen Peltham, on Pulpit Oratory. .

c'-

Ever since the Almighty gave to man the faculty of speech, he *^* ^ / * ' *
has been proud of using the prerogative well. In every age, to "{..-;

speak well has been thought to be one of the highest human ac-
complishments, as well as necessary instrument, in gaining and . t ^ .
sustaining power and authority. It has led to the direction of the
aflfeiirs of nations, and to the establishment of creeds in philosophy
and religion. The great lawgiver of Israel felt and avowed the "^
want of eloquence in undertaking his divine legation.

" And Moses said unto the Lord, O my Lord, I am not eloquent,
neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant : but
I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.
S2 27

•• «

SIO LECTURES ON

"And the Lord said unto him, Who hath made man's mouth 7
or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seemg, or the blind ?
have not I the Lord ?

" Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee
what thou shalt say.

" And he said, O my Lord, send, I pray thee, by the hand of him
whom thou wilt send.

" And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses, and he
said, Is not Aaron the Levite thy brother ? I know that he can
speak well. And also, behold, he cometh forth to meet thee, he
aeeth thee, he will be glad in his heart.

" And thou shalt speak unto him, and put words in his mouth :
and I will be with thy mouth, and with his mouth, and will teach
you what ye shall do.

" And he shall be thy spokesman unto the people : and he shall
be, even he shall be to thee instead of a mouth, and thou shalt be
to him instead of God."

The first efforts of poetick inspiration were those that gave im-
mortality to eloquence. The different kinds of speakers are de-
■cribed by Homer with a precision and beauty that has never been
surpassed ; like the productions of the Grecian chisel, they remain
as models to this day. All religions have been promulgated and
supported by eloquence ; even ours, which descended from heaven,
was preached with tongues of fire, the miraculous gift of its author.
Error has been propagated by eloquence ; Mahomet was the most
eloquent man of his race, and composed his Koran in the choicest
▼erscs of a lovely literature.

A passion for eloquence is not confined to civilized man. The
sons of the forest are as fond of it as the best cultivated minds in
polished life. Indian history is full of the passion for eloquence.
The speech of Logan is only a common specimen of their capacity
for high attainments in the noble art.

When the Winnebagoes had a deputation at the seat of govern-
ment last year, the interview between them and the President of
the United States was conducted with great ceremony. After sit-
ting a while in the audience chamber, the most aged chief, then
ninety years old, bald headed, with his manly arms and chest
bare, arose and advanced to the president; in a few words he
stated the object of his visit, and his happiness in finding the great
ftither of his people so kind and good, but should speak but little,
but leave the details and exemplifications of the mission they
were sent on, to the orator of the tribe. The aged chief retired
with great dignity ; the signal given, the orator advanced ; he was
of fine size and noble proportions. He stood an almost naked

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 211

bust, and extending his arm, said, that he was not a chief by birth,
but was made one by the fame of his talents, and by the power of
his eloquence. He was a warrior who had never committed a
crime, nor sunk to any meanness, or ever told a falsehood. His
whole demeanour was full of grave dignity, and solenm serenity.
After this interview, even the aged chief, who had kept sober before,
joined in a most riotous, drunken frolick, while the speaker kept
himself from the errors of his brethren, and retired from the scene^
to preserve the honours of a Winnebago orator.

Eloquence was the great engine by which T ecums eh rose to
power. He was one of three brothers at a birth. xKelndians of
his native tribe, as well as those of most other tribes, have a super-
stitious dread of such proliiick mothers. T^ey consider more
than one at a birth as an omen of famine, and the mother with her
children are banished ; but by a wise direction of providaice, the
evil is in some degree neutralized by the impression on the savage
mind, that the tribe who receive the fugitives wUl prosper for their
kindness. The three boys were brought up together, and were
most affectionate to each other -, being strangers, as it were, among
those with whom they lived, made them unite most closely in all
their plans. One of them fell in an attack at Nashville. Tecum-
seh tried his powers as an orator, and succeeded most admlraUy ;
his brother had not the natural gifts for one, or it was not politick
to have two orators in one tribe, still he must do something for
family aggrandizement ; and with a most admirable reach of
thought, Tecumseh made him a prophet, and was among the
first who professed to believe in his inspirations ; he preached them
every where, seemed to be guided by them, and keeping the pro-
phet as much veiled as possible, promulgated, himself, the wonders
of coming time ; only, however, as a mouth piece. It succeeded to
a charm, indeed. It was Indian eloquence that gave Indian pro-
phecy its influence ; for it has degenerated to mmnmery since that
eloquence has ceased. By eloquence this mighty savage collected
his followers and made them steadfast friends, who were ready to
pour out their blood at his command. By his eloquence he made
those of different tribes, naturally jealous of each other, partizans,
warriors, devotees, or whatever he pleased. There was a charm
about this orator of the wilderness that Demosthenes and Cicero
never had ; he was as brave as eloquent, as mighty in deeds as in
words. The bravery of the great orators of antiquity, has been
questioned, and they laid no claim to a double portion of the Win-
nebagoe's veracity.

Eloquence is almost as various in its character as personal ap-
pearance ; yet so many of its striking points are general, that we

212 LECTUHES ON

can describe it by considering a few classes of orators. The first
of these orders of eloquence, and the most charming of all of them,
may be C€dled social eloquence ; that which is under the patronage
of the household gods; the eloquence of the fireside, and the draw-
ing-room ; all that belongs to the charities and pleasant associations
of life. The language of ordinary instruction ; of joyous festivity;
of gayety ; of reproof, anger, and of love itself, belongs to this order.
It is more practised than studied ; and has more influence over the
affairs of men than all the other kinds put together ; but it is so
unambitious in its forms, that we are not aware of its force, or
elegance. There is no hour that it is not wanted, and every little
domestic circumstance requires it. It sweetens the morning be-
verage, and spices the evening posset ; it sparkles in every glass,
and beams from every eye ; and if it cannot turn water to wine, as
in the miracle, it can give to wine, as it is poured into the cup, a
Falemian ripeness, that a voyage round the world would not eflect.

The next class is the lowest order of publick speaking; and is
the most common, and, in most things of a publick nature, is indis-
pensable. It consists in the capacity and skill of arranging one's
thoughts in a fair manner; and of spreading them in good language
before an audience. This grade of elocution is found in the courts
of justice, the halls of legislation, and in all publick business places.
It is as much as a great proportion of pubhck speakers aspire to,
and perhaps as much as most of them could attain in the ordinary
pursuits of life.

The next grade is the former, with the additional power of ex-
citing more than an ordinary interest in the subject under discus-
sion, by happy arrangement, earnest delivery, with the power of
now and then striking a chord of the heart with a master hand, or
throwing a flash of unexpected light upon every listener, and
adding to all this a striking ingenuity in evading difficulties, and
seizing favourable opportunities of impressing important points,
A knowledge of human nature is a necessary ingredient in this
order of eloquence. Men are creatures of feeling, passion, preju-
dice, and caprice, as well as of reason and of judgement, and must
be studied to be controlled or influenced by the publick speaker.
Every portion of our country is blessed by the possession of such
men, who hold a commanding station in society j and particularly
if they have added to this grade of eloquence, moral virtue and
high intellectual acquirements; and the very possession of this
talent presupposes a highly respectable advancement in the various
branches of knowledge. This class of speakers take the lead in all
ordinary business in the courts of justice, and in deliberative bodies.
In all our state legislatures some dozen or two of these men may

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 213

be seen, visit them when you will, full of matter, and one or more
of them you will find engaged in the courts in every important
cause of litigation. These are what our fathers used to call ^'good
commonwealth's msn;^' for business is safe in their hands. They
are too intelligent for demagogues or dupes, and are not often
inordinately ambitious. The lesser men are those who run the
scrub race of popularity, and jostle each other from the course,
assuming much consequence, but possessing little merit.

The last and highest order of eloquence is susceptible of many
subdivisions ; more, perhaps, than the inferior grades ; but it must
contain all that is valuable in those inferior grades, with a greater
grasp of thought and more ample stores of knowledge. This high
and commanding power is inconsistent with petty views and alK
sorbing selfishness. To give it €dl its influence, there must be some-
thing in it of the apostle's purity and the prophet's fire. It is
confined to no place, nor to any class of men. It blazes in the pul-
pit and illumines the court room, but it is not confined to them or
to the halls of legislation. The true orator wants not place to
give him inspiration; wherever he moves, the oracle goes with
him. A stone or stump will answer for a tripod, and to him the
conunon air is full of Delphick incense.

There can be no lack of opportunity for acquiring and displaying
eloquence in this country. There are in the United States twenty-
four state legislatiu*es, consisting of more than one hundred and
fifty members to each body, on an average. These deliberative
assemblies are in session for more than two months in each year,
and engaged in matters of consequence to the pubUck ; in softening
the hard features of the common law, or providing for internal
improvements, chartering banks, or creating other corporations for
publick institutions, guided by private individuals. Many of these
subjects create warm debates, for pecuniary interest is quite as wide
awake as ambition, and often something of both is found in such
discussions ; local policy and private interest often give a piquancy
and spirit to publick speaking, that no general impressions of duty
can give.

Our civil and criminal tribunals are so many forums of eloquence,
and much business is done in them. There are at least thirty thou-
sand verdicts of juries returned yearly in all our courts, and many
of them involve matters of deep interest, either of a publick or
private nature ; and when to these are added all the other opportu-
nities m equity, arbitrations, &c., what excuse have we for not ma-
king good speakers ? And these are not the only schools of elo-
quence, for there is not a cattle show had, or a bridge built, but
tSorda a chance for a speech or two. Meetings for political pur-

' * ■ *

914 LECTURES ON

poses are constantly convened for the selection of candidates for
state assemblies or Ck)ngress, and harangues are made on these
occasions without stint. Charity, too, has her train of orators,
and her style of elocution, she strikes the chords of the heart with
an hundred hands, and sometimes " creates a soul under the ribs
of deaih:^

Her sister. Religion, besides her half million sermons and lectures
each revolving year, at the altar, has also her numerous associa-
tions for diffusing light and knowledge, which call forth some ex-
quisite strains of eloquence.

It is a great mistake to judge of American eloquence, altogether,
fjtom the speakers in Congress ; but most foreigners seem to think
that in that body is concentrated all the knowledge and eloquence
of the country. Congress, undoubtedly, has its share of good
speakers, but no monopoly of them.

It has often been remarked in England, that the literary men
who visit the house of lords or commons but occasionally, are
disappointed in the eloquence of the speakers. It is so with those
who, from abroad, or from various parts of our country, visit Wash-
ington to hear the debates in Congress. This is very natural, for
they can seldom give a rational account of their anticipations; for
distance, the imposing nature of a national legislature, and the recol-
lection of the great men who flourished in that body, and some
knowledge of the great men who are now members of it, fill the
mind with lofty but undefined impressions respecting the eloquence
of such an assembly. But we must look at this body closely to get
at the truth; a single glance will mislead us ; we must look at it in
its elements. To take any ordinary day's business for a criterion
of talent in Congress, would be egregiously wrong. The slovenly
and careless air of some would mislead, and the great zeal of othersi,
personally interested, could hardly be accounted for upon any
principle of patriotism. There is a greater diversity of interests
than of minds in such a body, and to judge of them fairly, one;
must be thoroughly acquainted with them, and also with the course
of business. To reason correctly upon our national legislature,
we must go to the elements of which it is composed. It has been
called the great Amphyctionick council; but the parallel runs
but a little way. It was not modelled on it, but decidedly on the
British Parliament, and is governed by the fundamental rules of
that body. •«,

Forty, years only have elapsed since the adoption of the federal
constitution. There were then but thirteen states to form a com-
pact ; there are now twenty-four in it. In these forty years there
have been in both branches of the national legislature, seventeen

t
\

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 215

hundred and twenty-two members; twelve hundred and eighty-
seven of them in the house of representatives, from, the old stat^,
and one hundred and seventy-nine from the new states without
the limits of the old territory ; two hundred and thirty-seven sena-
tors of the old states, and seventy-nine from the new ones, making,
in the whole, the first nientioned number of seventeen hundred and
seventy-two. Perhaps it would be gratifying to some to see the
numbers belonging (o' the several states : Maine has had, to the
close of the nineteenth Congress, fourteen representatives, and two
senators; New-Hampshire fifty-eight representatives, and seven-
teen senators; Vermont, forty-five representatives, and fourteen
senators ; Massachusetts, one hundred and forty-three representa-
tives, and nineteen senators ; Rhode Island, nineteen representatives,
and seventeen senators ; Connecticut, fifty-five representatives, and
fourteen senators; New-York, two hundred and fifty-five represen-
tatives, and twenty-one senators ; New-Jersey, fifty-four represen-
tatives, and nineteen senators; Pennsylvania, one hundred and
seventy-five representatives, and fifteen senators ; Delaware, fifteen
representatives, and seventeen senators ; Maryland, eighty-five re-
presentatives, and seventeen senators ; Virginia, one hundred and
forty-six representatives, and twenty-two senators ; North Carolina,
one hundred and two representatives, and twelve senators ; South
Carolina, seventy-six representatives, and thirteen senators ; Geor-
gia, forty-five representatives, and twenty senators ; Kentucky, six-
ty representatives, and twenty senators; Tennessee, thirty-eight
representatives, and eighteen senators ; Ohio, thirty-six representa-
tives, and thirteen senators ; Louisiana, six representatives, and nine
senators; Illinois, five representatives, and four senators; Missis-
sippi, seven representatives, and five senators ; Missouri, five rep-
resentatives, and two senators ; Indiana, nine representatives, and
four senators ; Alabama, four representatives, and five senators.
There have been nine delegates from the several territories. Some
few have been counted twice in the foregoing estimation, when
they had come to Congress the second time, after an interval of
years. These, probably, are not so many as there were new ones
returned for the twentieth Congress. All these have had a hand
in making our code of laws, which has growni up within the last
forty years. This body has contained, in the worst of times, a very
considerable number of men of talents and integrity, who have
laboured for their country's weal. But a small portion of the
names of the whole number, however, will go down to posterity as
orators and statesmen.

The constant changes in these legislative bodies, and the very
considerable number of persons in them, though certainly not very

816 LECTURES ON

large, diminishes individual responsibility, and is one of the causes
of those agitations which arise in every Congress. Old members
are desirous of keeping up their hard-earned distinction, and new
men are fierce to become conspicuous ; the latter let oflf their
arrows, to show the nation with what vigour they can bend the
bow; but it frequently happens, that after a few Ineflfectual efforts,
many of them are heard of no more.

The subjects before congress are not often of great importance,
but merely matters of our own domestic relations^ for we have but
little legislating on foreign relations. Local questions, on which
some little sectional interest or opinion turns, often excite more
attention than those of great magnitude to the nation. It is such
questions as these that call up the fire, and not unfrequently cause
to flow all the venom of party. Many young members think they
must send their constituents a speech now and then, for a two-fold
reason, to show them that they are of some consequence at Wash-
ington, and to secure their next election ; and it will not be denied
by any man of honesty, sagacity, and experience, that much of the
time of Congress is taken up in effecting this object.

A high standard of eloquence is expected of this body ; but there
are many reasons operating against making or finding a great many
first rate speakers in Congress. In the first place, the hall of re-
presentatives is too large for easy, natural speaking. The sweetest
and richest tones of the human voice are often those of small com-
pass and volume. In such an immense space as is contained with-
in the walls of that hall, delicate voices are but faintly heard, or
entirely drowned ; and when the voice is not distinctly heard, the
audience, whether spectators or members, after a few painful strug-
gles to hear, give it up ; and probably by locomotion or by conver-
sation, prevent those from hearing who might have caught some-
thing of the argument, if a profound silence among the audience
bad reigned in the room. The bold and full mouth speakers, by
putting forth all their strength of lungs, may, sometimes, be heard
by most of the members ; but then these vociferating and stentorian
efforts seem to be giving only a wordy energy to the subject, and
magnifying trifles by the power of sound. Emphasis, which should
tie used only as discriminating one part of a sentence from another,
is, in this hall, used merely to be heard. There is, to an enlightened
mind, something almost ludicrous in hearing a man detailing com-
mon place matters, and pronouncing plain mzixims, in a voice of
thunder. The voice raised to the highest pitch, has no proper in-
flexions, cadences, or euphony, and often not any measure, but goes
on in that monotonous, screamy manner, so offensive to all who
have cultivated ears. The hpuse of commons bears no propor-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 217

tion in point of size to this hall ; yet it is made to accommodate
six hundred and fifty-eight members, and here there are but two
hundred and sixteen, all told.

So much for the house ; but it must be confessed that the busi-
ness of Congress affords but few of those displays of eloquence we
have heard of in deliberative assemblies. The general business of
legislation is dull, and requires only attention ; for these occasions
the members make no preparation, and of course produce but little
effect A spectator in the gallery hears the broken echoes of the
voice, oftener than the natural tones of it ; and he soon grows tired,
if not disgusted, with the subject and the speaker. By a continu-
ance of these evils, the publick are disposed to give up their expec-
tations of hearing speeches, on common occasions, remarkable for
elegance in language, or happy in delivery. They turn to the pa-
pers for speeches, and these again deceive them ; for there is not
one speech out of twenty given to the publick as they are delivered.
The reporter, according to custom, is bound to make the orator
talk good English, at least, and say nothing absurd, if nothing very
smart; while the speaker very often pays no regard to rules in the
delivery. The highest grade of American elocution, therefore, is
not to be looked for in the house of representatives, except upon
particular occasions, and from those who do not often gratify the
publick with a speech. " Tlie high and palmy staie^^ of American
eloquence, was during the first ten years of the forty since the adop-
tion of the constitution. The causes of its falling oflf are obvious. The
time then was not wasted on trivial subjects and personal bickerings ;
there was business to be done, and they set about it in good earnest ;
and when proper opportunities occurred for eloquence, it was found of
a manly, vigorous, classical order. They were well educated men, se-
lected for their intelligence and character among their fellow citizens.
Let it not be understood that we think that our present Congress is
wanting in talent, or in information. No ; we are as well aware as
any can be, that our national legislature abounds in men gifted by
nature, and imbued with learning ; men who, on all great occasions,
come forward and show the depth of their resources, and their power
of investigation, and exhibit integrity, talent, and eloquence, sufficient
to redeem the reputation of anybody of men, and to wipe the stain from
the national escutcheon ; men by the light of whose minds we have
been illumined, and by whose virtuous and exalted feelings we have
been warmed and enamoured. These are the hope of their country,
the salt of the land ; but who are aroused only on great occasions,
and will not enter into all the pitiful squabbles of the day, nor con-
tend with ignorance and vulgarity for the mastery in the race for
popularity. Mighty minds are seldom profuse of eSbrt, or hasty in
T 88

218 LECTURES ON

conflicts ; they wait until the occasion demands, and the subject
justifies an interposition.

No country on earth has ever laboured harder to make orators
than our own. In addition to the fifty-three colleges, where clas-
sical educations are given, there are hundreds of minor institutions
in which every rule of rhetorick is committed to memory ; and
every student can give you all the maxims, from Blair, Campbell,
and others, necessary to make an orator; can tell you when to ex-
tend the arm, balance the body, raise the eyes, quicken the ut-
terance, elevate the voice, and all the other golden rules to build up
a Demosthenes or a Chatham. We have had most of the great
dramatick actors from Europe to teach us ; to those of our mother
tongue we have paid great attention, from Hodgkinson to Macrea-
dy. Fennel came to teach us to read, Ogilvie to speak; and
teachers "have swarmed upon our shores, and we have followed
them, and paid them extravagant sums for years, for instruction ;
but our eloquence is not much benefited by all this. Our canons
of criticism, no doubt, have been multiplied, and our taste grown
more fastidious by all their precepts and examples ; but for all this,
our great orators have not increased in proportion to the number
of publick speakers. It may be asked, " do you mean to infer that
all these rules and criticisms are of no advantage to the youthful
aspirant in elocution ?" We do not say this ; but we do say, that
all the rules in the world will not alone make an orator. The seeds
of eloquence are sown while on the maternal bosom, and are de-
veloped with the first powers of utterance. It is taught in the nursery,
in the primary, secondary, as well as in the high schools. It consists j
j in the education of the human voice, together with the human mind, f
All property that comes down to us from our ancestors receives
the name of patrimony, as coming from our fathers, and as acquired
and maintained by them, except our language, the most noble of
all things we inherit, and this is called our mother tongue — a just
and beautiful compliment to maternal instruction. It goes to say,
that the elements of our language are acquired before the father's
care begins. How much more sweet and noble is this term, our
mother tongue^ than that of vernacular language. The origin
of the latter is mean, compared with the former, notwithstanding
its classical decent. A verna was a bondman or bond- woman among
the Romans of the class of the Nothi, who were household slaves,
but had certain rights, which could not be taken from them. The
verna;, from whence vernacular, were instructed in all the niceties
of the Latin language, in order to teach the children the vernacular
in its purity. The value of these bondmen, or nursery maids, was
in proportion to their knowledge of their language, and the use of

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 219

a chaste, easy, colloquial style of conversation. It was the duty of
these men and women to see that the legitimate children should
acquire no bad habits, while they were writing the first words of
their vocabulary on their memories. If the infant has good exam-
ples in speaking, the child correct precepts in reading and speaking,
and the youth is in constant habits of attention to his language, in
all the common affairs of life, and with this, is careful to improve
his mind, he is an orator, without, perhaps, knowing it. Con-
nexions and associations have as much to do with the tones of the
human voice as with our cast of thinking and reasoning ; hence
professional pronunciation, provincial accents, and many other pe-
culiarities that vitiate the correct and elegant use of our language.
We, probably, have much less of this provincialism than any other
people.

Eloquence must be the voice of mind, or it is nothing. The full
mind will, in excitement, find utterance, and communicate its
knowledge. Mental energies will, in the end, overcome most phy-
sical defects. The voice of an empty declaimer, however mellifluous,
soon becomes offensive ; the impassioned soul will find a tongue,
and the dictates of an enlightened understanding correct its voice.

There are some specimens of written eloquence in the annals of
the first century of our country, that have come down to us, with
the traditions of the manner in which they were spoken, which
strictly corresponds with the spirit of the composition. Such are
some of Cotton Mather's sermons, and an earlier effort of Governor
Winthrop.

Eloquence was in that age confined chiefly to the pulpit, as the
magistrates had not many opportunities for a display of their ora-
tory in the desultory business of their courts ; but when church was
entirely separated from state, opportunities grew more frequent
in the legislative assemblies, and there can be no doubt but that
there was much spirited debate in the questions of state policy
which were constantly occurring in the several provinces. The
numerous discussions upon furnishing men and supplies for Cana-
dian and Indian wars ; the manner of managing the campaign ; as
well as many minor matters, were all subjects which called forth the
eloquence of our ancestors; and one versed in the minute history of
the early times, will often see in obituary notices, in funeral sermons,
and private letters, observations and epithets which afford him much
mformation respecting the style of eloquence in that age, and of
the men who were conspicuous as speakers. Of one, it was said, that
ne was a Boanerges^ and he thundered on his opposers ; of another,
that he was silver-tongued^ and pleased every body; and of
another, that he was a host in himself , and if you did not vyish

220 LECTURES ON

to follow him, you must shut your ears when he was taUcin^,
In truth, they were eloquent, for they were engaged in matters of
importance to themselves, had " the motive and the cue to action,"
ivithout any poverty of words. The whole meaning of the maxim,
th<it free governments are favourable to eloquence, is only, that
intelligent men are found there, and dare say what they think in
strong language ; and this boldness gives to dl that proceeds from
their lips, point and force.

We have said something of the eloquence of those who reasoned
the mass of the people into the opposition to the mother country ;
but it was said in so general a manner, that we, perhaps, may be
indulged in selecting a few of the individuals who were distinguish-
ed in those days, and since ; not that these we may select are the
" twentieth of a ttt/ie" of those who took a part in the debates
upon the countless questions of right, and duty, and policy of our
proceedings during the time we were growing into a nation ; but a
few may be brought forward to show the style and manner of the
most conspicuous of them. Some of them have lived to the days
of the lecturer, and their manner is fresh in his recollection. Of
those he never heard, he forms his opinions upon the concurrent
testimony of good judges, who have often heard them speak, and
the reports of their speeches that have come dovni to us.

Patr ick Henry, of Virginia, was a natural orator, as some gifted
speakers are called, whose eloquence seems spontaneous, and is
impassioned and free from the trammels of rules. It is said that
he was a self-educated man, whose manner was his own, and was
blessed with the power of utterance beyond most of those who
had been taught in the groves of the academy. He felt deeply and
made others feel. His flashes of eloquence gave an electrick shock
to the audience ; and these were managed with great skill, and
repeated at his will ; or by some sudden transition, he let down his
hearers to a common tone of feeling, by the most felicitous illustra-
tions or playful similes. He was, however, more powerful in
raising apprehensions than in allaying them. His eloquence was
supported by his patriotism, and what in the warmth of debate he
said he would do, he followed up in the coolness of reflection ;
and if not as powerful, was as fearless with his sword as with his
tongue. His eloquence was not elaborate, nor his speeches long. His
audience easily understood him, and his speech was ended before
any part of them were tired of hearing him. His patriotism and
his eloquence have had ample justice done them by his learned
biographer. i^^ tl c ^ ^ r 1 1*- ^J cii<ktL if^r *-•<»..>;/ ^ 3 4^ ->

Another of the same state, Mr. M adison, exhibited a different
style of eloquence. He had no passionj^nio majesty of tone, no

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 221

vehement gestures, nothing of that war-horse spirit of his co-
adjiitor, Patrick Henry; his was the smooth, but manly cur-
rent of thought. It was philosophy, reasoning upon rights, and
explaining duties, and teaching his hearers how to prepare for
exigencies. He saw all things in a clear light, without enthusiasm
or agitation. His speaking resembled his writing : his lineis were
all straight, his letters uniformly made, his spelling accurate, and
his punctuation perfect. He was never ofLhis guard; but self-
possessed, he spoke until he was satisfied that he was fully under-
stood, and then he left his arguments to work out their proper
eflfect, without showing any anxiety for himself or them ; perhaps
there was never a man who spoke so often, that spoke so much to
the purpose as Mr. Madison. His eloquence was one of those deep,
silent, regular flowing rivers, that has no narrows, shoals, or cata-
racts, but winds its way in peace and dignity to the ocean. He
possessed such an equanimity of temper, that he was always ready
for debate, and always acquitted himself well ; and if he did not
rise so high in his eloquence, at times, as those who wait for inspi-
ration, he never, like them, was liable to disappoint his hearers by
inane voices, when the spirit ceased to agitate them. Mr. Madison
is still living, the Nestor among orators.

The eloquence of the patriot John Adams was altogether different
from either of these men. His mind was full of classick learning,
and his soul for ever animated with political prophecies, and his
heart was in his mouth. He came to his subject sword in hand,
and carried his purposes by storm rather than by siege. He saw
his object clearly, and came to it directly. There were no Ionian
blandishments in his style ; no Corinthian beauties ; use, durability,
and strength, were the components of his elocution. When he
spoke, the timid grew brave, and the cunning fled, for they knew
he would cut the Gordian knot without wasting his time to show
his ingenuity by untying it. His imagination was never diseased
by evil forebodings ; he declared that America ought, could, and
would be free. To this he at all times came directly, without ad-
mitting contingencies or calculating upon misfortimes. He knew
the character of the people, and he trusted in it for the result. He
suggested to his native state, more than a year before the declara-
tion of independence, the propriety of attacking the enemy in the
vitals, by seizing their property on the high seas. The project was
astounding even to his brave countrymen; and one of his compeers,
in that dark hour whan it was made known, has often told me that
he never should forget the time^ the subject, the manner, or the
man. Adams declared that the glory of America was to be on the seas ;
and with more than Delphick eloquence raised his voice for wooden
T2

222 LECTURES ON

walls. The naval glories of the world came up in intense vislonB
to his mind, and he knew, by an every day observation, that the
mariners of his country had the bone and muscle, the heart, the
skill, and the indomitable courage, to make " their home upon the
deep." Not a voice in the legislature was raised against his plans ;
and every old cannon that was embedded in the clay, or secured as
a highway comer^post, started from its quietude, and was harnessed
on some frail barque for the sea-fight. Was not this eloquence De-
mosthenian 7 It perhaps wanted something of the Athenian polish,
but it had the true effect.

The eloquence of Alexander Hamilton diflfered from all the pre-
ceding orators we havFuameS. THe arose deeply impressed with
his subject ; and often, in the onset, seemed a Uttle agitated, a slight
tinge of modesty crossed his cheek, but it was only the fear of him-
self, the only fear a man of genius and of learning can ever have,
when master of his subject He made as few points in his case as
possible, stated these in a clear and forcible manner, and spread
them before the assembly, court, or jury, with great perspicuity and
elegance. He never descended below the dignity of argument to
catch popular i^pplause, nor ever suffered himself to be borne away
from the course of his reasonings by irritation or passion. There
was temperance, 'method, and judgement in all his speeches ; and
when he closed, there was nothing to mend, and but httle to add.
But the great charm of his eloquence, after all, was the conviction,
in every mind, of the speaker's sincerity ; there was a window in his
breast,- and all the pulses of his heart were distinctly seen, beating
in the regular movements of honour. His eloquence was fascina-
ting as well as commanding ; his person was not large, but dignified
and graceful. The compass of his voice was extensive ; its tones
were not loud or vociferating, but his enunciation was so clear that he
had the advantage over many, in the largest assemblies, whose lungs
were much stronger than his. No one, whatever might be his grade
of intellect, ever heard him without delight; and no good judge,
without feeling that he had been listening to a gentleman, a sdbiolar,
and a patriot, as well as an orator. He died in the prime of
manhood ; and the tears of his friends and political enemies trickled
together on his grave, as a tribute to the miglity dead.

Gouverneur Morris ^vas a splendid orator. His mind was prolifick,
his fancy excursive, and his information extensive. He had read
books attentively, but men more thoroughly. He was well ac-
quainted with French literature and the academicians, and had
caught something of their animation and literary fervour. His
figures were beautiful, his sentimental touches delicate and thrilling.
No orator ever made a more successful lunge at the heart than Mor-

AMERICAN UTERATURE. 233

lis, for he pierced at will. If Hamilton was the Zenophon among
our intellectual lights, as he has been called, for the neati^eas, purity,
IT. of his — -■■■-■- — 1-t.i, friaiid (InilTrninir

lation than moat of our oralorx, an evil that foreigners complain of in
our language. His imagination was creative, and at his bidding
new scenes arose, new beings lived, increased as he chose, and iaded
away at his will. He struck his hand across the chords of the hearts
of his audience, and allwas harmonious to his touch; but his plain-
tive measures were most congenial to his mind ; he had nothing
dark or sullen in his constitution, but there was a soft and gentle
gloom that oflen intermingled with the light of his mind, which
gave the shade of the sanctuary to the outpourings of his heart.

224 LECTURES ON

He mourned to think that he could not fully impress on the minda
of others what he foreboded for his country ; the common fault of
a sensitive patriot. The diseases of his corporal frame entered deeply
into his mind ; and amid troublesome times he mingled dark augu-
ries for the nation. He saw, in his imagination, the myrmidons
of France sweeping over his country with rapine, fire, and dagger,
and the conflagration of cities filled his eyes, and the screams of
ravished virgins his ears. His coimtrymen seemed to him in a
state of amazing apathy, and he grew almost frantick at the thought ;
but he mistook their cool, brave, and persevering character, for want
of discernment and feeling. His warning appeals, as he thought
them, were all wasted on the winds, although every one listened to
him with profound respect and admiration. His friends and neigh-
bours flocked around him, as a being of wonderful powers and su-
periour sagacity ; but from their habits of reasoning for themselves^
they thought that all these evils might not come, and they would
wait the providence of God in this as in other things ; but the ho-
nour and honesty of the great man they never doubted, for he was
to them an angel of light ; crowded with all his gloomy thoughts
for his country, he sunk to the grave ; but his admirers never lost
one particle of their veneration for tl^e genius and virtues of the man.
No man has a higher claim than S amuel Ph illips to that solemn
eloquence which was formerly common in New-England, but is
now nearly extinct ; and which was a union of the dignity of the
eloquence of the magistracy, and the sanctity of that usual in the ec-
clesiastical coimcil. Mr. Phillips was for twenty years president of
the senate of the commonwealth of Massachusetts. He was a man
of sterling integrity, of scrupulous exactness, and of religious so-
lemnity ; he possessed a strong mind, had a good share of classical
taste, and a thorough early education. In speaking, his enuncia-
tion was slow, but not in the least drawling ; his emphasis and
cadence were admirable. He never rose to speak until he had
fully matured his subject, and when he did, all were attentive.
Point, maxim, inference, and conclusions, followed with such order,
and such strength of argument, that he never spoke without
making a deep impression, and seldom was on the unsuccessful
side of a question. I have no belief that there are many speeches,
or even skeletons of speeches, of his in print. There are several
articles from his pen m the* Massachusetts state papers. Among
other things, there is an address of the legislature of the common-
wealth of Massachusetts to John Adams, on his return to his resi-
dence in Quincy, after the election of Mr. Jefferson to the presi-
dency of the United States. This is an elegant production, full of
both dignity and affection ; and all writings that axe known to be

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 825

his are of a high character, as well in point of composition, as m
spirit and matter.

Samuel Dexter was another of our orators, who was the great
man of his day. Every epithet of praise was lavished on his elo-
quence. He was indeed a strong man. His frame was colossal,
his features prominent and marked. There were no nice graces,
no delicate finishings about him as an orator. His voice was heavy,
his enunciation slow, and his manner generally cool ; and even
when he was disturbed, it was rather the swell of the ocean, than
the dash of the torrent. Like Pinckney, he was equally distin-
guished at the bar and in the deliberative assembly, and was con-
stantly engaged in one or the other. Mr. Dexter was in Congress
in stormy times, and fearlessly took his course. From the Con-
gress he was made a member of the cabinet of President Adams,
continued a while with his successor, and from that office he re-
turned again to the bar. Here it was thought by many that he
was without a rival as an advocate. He never did any thing by
trick or cunning. In every argument he took the lion by the mane,
and brought strength to match strength, and put the mastery upon the
trial of superiour power ; and no one will venture to say that he had
inferiour intellects to contend with. He practised in an enlightened
commimity, and had to struggle with those who wore polished ar-
mour, and bore fearful weapons, and used them with knightly skill.
Yet, if not always victorious, he was never broken down by supe-
riour energy, but kept himself ready for the combat. It is to be
regretted that of such a man there shonld be so little remaining —
not a whole political speech, not a full argument of his, in any
case, can be found in print, and probably does not exist any where,
in manuscript or memory.

Pinckney was truly a great man — a lawyer, a statesman, a diplo-
ma!^,*' an orator, and, withal, a scholar. Feeling the fire of genius
kindling up within him, he broke from the common high road of busi-
ness, and sought the paths of professional learning, against the sug-
gestions of the prudent, and the advice of the sagacious. He con-
quered one province after another in the regions of science and
letters ; and went up with the unquenchable thirst of a great mind
to drink of the springs of knowlaige, not satisfied with the tainted
currents as they flowed onwards through the world. He gave
ample proofs, if any were wanting, that the highest cultivation of
taste and imagination is consistent with profound research and
sound judgement ; that ornament was not incompatible with
strength; and that even the temple of the law might, notwithstand-
ing its gothick structure, be susceptible of elegance and high finish.

226 LECTURES ON

His genius was not more lofty than versatile. It might have been
said of him as of the fifth Harry :

" Hear him debate of commonwealth afi&in,
You would aay, it hath been all m all his study ;
List his diacouiae of war, and you shall hear
A fearful battle rendered you in musick ;
Turn him to any course of policy,
The gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter ; that when he speaki^
The air, a chartered libertine, is still ;
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences.**

The spaces he filled at the bar, in the senate, and as a foreign
minister, were all great indeed. If he sometimes found equals, he
had no superiours, and his country and his clients placed their
interests in his hands with the fullest confidence that he would do
all the case would admit of; and who could do more 7 He never
spared himself in any efforts required for his client's interest, and
he went on day by day performing Herculean labours in the court,
until nature, not early^ hut untimely^ sunk under them. His elo-
quence was of the highest grade, but not faultless. His audible
whispers and his tremendous bursts were well enough in him, for
he threw intellect into every thing, even into manner ; and his voice
was never harsh or dissonant. This habit in his imitators is shock-
ing ; they are unequal to riding the great horse. Pinckney died at
Washington, in the discharge of his duty at the bar of the supreme
court of the United States. He was buried in the publick. grave-
yard, on the eastern branch of the Potomack, about a mile and a
half from the capitol, in Washington. The lonely traveller, as he
gazes on the monument, calls to his recollection how lately this
heap of dust was the centre of attraction! How few days have
elapsed since bevies of beauties hung enamoured on his accents, and
strewed flowers in his path ! They make no visits now, with re-
turning seasons, to this spot, in honour of the sheuie of this once
gifted orator ! Some other idol, perhaps, has arisen, and the paeans
tfiey sung are forgotten ; or perhaps these very votaries of fashion,
whose smile of approbation was fame, have also passed away, with-
out historian or poet. The records of fashion, notwithstanding the
omnipotence of her reign, are written in fading ink, and soon become
illegible. Over the spot where repose the ashes of the dead, hang
the scales in which the mighty deeds of men are weighed ! How
eloquent is the silence of the grave.

We might go on to name a great number of men justly styled
orators, who have passed from the stage of action witlidn ]eaa tiian

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 8^

twenty years past ; but our limits will not permit us to proceed ; not
meaning simply to include the second class of the good business
speakers, but only those of unquestionable superiority ; and I think
no candid man will hesitate to say, that our community has been
prolifick in those, compared with any other people. It has been
said, by the Baron de Sainte Croix, that from the commencement
of the thirteenth century to that of the third before Christ, Athens
did not produce more than fifty-four distinguished orators and
rhetoricians. We have had many more than that number within
half a century.

LECTURE xm.

I would I were a Poet, and cotdd write

The passage of this mighty world in rime^
And taike of warres, and zmnj a yaiiaiii fight,
And how the Captaines did to honoor clime I
Of wise and faire, of gratious^ virtiiouB^ kinde,
And of the bounty of a noble minde.

Nicholas Bbston.

To HATE a faur and just view of the mmd which has been active
in the affau^ of our country, ever since it had an existence, we must
look at her military and naval characters, as well as to her literary
and scientifick men : in fact they are, in our time, ultimately connected.
In every stage of our growth, we have had to struggle with hardships
of an extraordinary nature. These exertions gave a hardihood to
the people, which could not have been acquired in days of peace and
prosperity. We will pass over those military characters, John
Smith and Miles Standish— heroes of such prowess, that, if they had
lived in some other ages of the world, would have had temples erect-
ed to their memories-— and proceed to trace, with rapid hand, some of
the wars in which the colonies were involved, from their infancy up
to the present time. The colonies classed their wars under the fol-
lowing names : When the country of the Indians at war with them
was without theur grants, they called it a war, in the common accep-

LECTURES ON

tation of the term ; but if within their grants and without their settle-
ments, they called it an interruption ; but if within their settlem^fita,
they called it a rebellion ; hence the term so often used, rd)el Indi*
ans : some of their bloodiest wars were of this description.

In 1634, the Pequods, a powerful nation of Indians, killed Capts.
Stone and Norton, traders in their country ; this gave the colonies
the alarm. In 1638, Lords Say and Brook erected a fort near the
head quarters of the Pequods, which so incensed them, that they con«
tinued their massacres, until the people of Connecticut found it ne-
cessary to make a war of extermination upon this tribe of Indians in
their neighbourhood. Previous to this period, the colonies of New-
England had associated for self-defence, and had made a league with
the six Narragansett sachems. The Narragansetts were not friendly to
the Pequods, and entered at first into this war with alacrity. In May,
1637, a body of seventy men, with sixty Connecticut river Indians,
with two hundred Narragansetts, and one himdred Nianticks, a settle-
ment of the Pequods in friendship with the colonists, and twenty
men from the garrison of Say-Brook, under the command of Capt.
Mason, with their friends from Massachusetts, consisting of one
hundred and sixty-three men under Mr. Staughton, and fifty from
the old colony, in three months cut up the Pequods, destroying
about seven hundred of them, and only left about two hundred re-
maining, who were soon scattered among the tribes, and lost their
name and sovereignty. Theywere fierce and brave, but fbught gene-
rally with bows and battle axes, ncyt having as yet procured many fire
arms. The colonists loil ^.^comiderable number of men in these
engagements, and had a still greater number wounded.

In 1654, the Narragansetts made war on the Indians on Long
Island, but the confederates soon suppressed these hostilities. In
New-England there waspeace from this time until 1675, when Philip,
•OB of Massasoit — the father had been in friendship with the whites
for fifty years — commenced hostilities upon than. He had concei-
ved the design of exterminating the colonists at a blow. For this pur-
pose, he covered his designs in the most artful manner by a treaty, in
1671. Philip was a savage of the first order of intellect. He saw
that his people were wasting away before the growing power crfthe
white men, and that if a great effort was not made to destroy them, it
would soon be too late. He had for many yearst, during the life time
of his father, been brooding over the fate of his country, and the vi-
sions of futurity grew strong before his eyes ; he meditated upon
what he saw, and silently determined on his course. His council
probably were not apprized of the extent of his plan, which was to
form a confederacy of the tribes from the St. Lawrence to the Missisk
sippi ; and so secretly did he proceed on his journey to carry this in-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 820

to effect, that it was not for many months after his departure that the
nearest colonists to Mount Hope, this sachem's usual place of resi-
dence, knew or suspected his absence. The extent of his journey
will probably never be traced ; but, from the numerous tribes of In-
dians he soon stirred up to make common cause with him, it must
have been very great The system was one worthy of the most sa-
gacious statesman of any age. Philip began his war himself^ by kill-
ing nine whites, in June, 1675. This exploit was the signal for the
commencement of hostilities from the confederates. The plan was
so well digested, that it would have succeeded if Philip had not been
surrounded by traitors. The colonists were apprized of the designs
of the aUiance by friendly Indians, and made such arrangements as
enabled them, in a great measure, to cut up these foes in detail, before
they could make a simultaneous movement. The elements were also
against the aboriginal warrior. There was quite a Russian winter
in the year 1675 and 6, and the eastern Indians were obhged to sue
for peace, as they were unable to fight and procure food at the same
time. This was granted them ; but by the genial influence of spring,
and the powerful arguments of Philip, they renewed hostilities as
soon as their sufferings were over. On tiie 12th of August, 1676, Philip
was slain by one of the friendly Indians, and this formidable alli-
ance was soon broken and destroyed. The colonists had strained
every nerve to raise troops, to make a powerful impression at the on-
set. Governor Winslow, the second governor of that name, had
made a campaign the previous winter with one thousand colonists
and five hundred friendly Indians, and killed seven hundred of the
enemy, with the loss of eighty-five men, and an hundred and fifty
wounded. Winslow was a judicious commander, and performed
his duties with great spirit and bravery ; but Col. Church, of Little
Compton, was in truth the hero of this war. He was pressing
hard upon Philip for some days before the chieftain was slain.
Church's son wrote an account of the wax in which his father was
engaged ; a very plain, unvarnished tale of his exploits, which has
lately been republished by Dr. Drake, of Boston, with copious notes,
of great research and interest. Church lived many years, and was,
at the commencement of the last century, engaged in Indian warfare
in his old age.

There was not a village which did not suffer by the attacks of the
Indians, and many of them extremely. The assailants would often
conceal themselves whole weeks in ambush, to wait for the absence
of the men, and then attack defenceless women and children. Many
instances of female heroism are on record, which occurred in that
day, and should be carefully preserved. Among the most conspicu-
ous was that of Mrs. Hannah Duston, of HayerhOl, a pleasant village
U

230 LECTUBES ON

situated on ihe left bank of the Merrimack. On the 15th of March,
1606, Mrs. Duston was made prisoner by a party of Indians. She
Was on this day confined to her bed by sickness, attended by her
nurse, Mary Niff. Seven children, besides a female infant six days
old, were with her. As soon as the alarm was given, her husband
sent away the seven children towards the garrison-house ; by which
time the Indians were so near, that, despairing of saving the others of
his family, he hastened after his children, on horseback. This course
was advised by his wife. She thought it was idle for her to attempt
to escape. A party of Indians followed him, but the father kept in
the rear of the children, and often firing on his pursuers, he kept them
back, and was enabled to reach the garrison with his children in safe-
ty. The Indians took Mrs. Duston from her bed, and carried herofl^
with the nurse and infant ; but fmding the little one becoming
troublesome, they took her from her mother's arms by force, and
dashing her against a tree, ended her moans, and miseries, and life
together. The mother had followed the Indians until this moment
with faultermg steps and bitter tears, thinking on the fate of herself,,
her babe, and her other children. After this horrid outrage, she
wept no more ; the agony of nature drank the tear-drop ere it fell.
She looked to heaven with a silent prayer for succour and ven-
geance, and followed the infernal group without a word of com-
plaint At this instant, the high resolve was formed in her mind,
and swelled every pulse of her heart. They travelled on some dis-
tance : as she thought, one himdred and fifty miles, but, perhaps,
from the course they took, about seventy-five. The river had pro-
bably been broken up but a short time, and the canoes of the Indi-
ans were above the upper falls, on the Merrimack, when they com-
menced their journey to attack Haverhill. Above these falls, on an
island in this river, the Indians had a wigwam, and in getting their
canoes in order, and by rowing ten miles up the stream, became
much fatigued. When they reached the place of rest, they slept
soundly. Mrs. Duston did not sleep. The nurse, and an English
boy, a prisoner, were apprized of her design ; but were not of much
use to her in the execution of it. In the stillness of the night she
arose and went out of the wigwam to test the soundness and security
of savage sleep. They did not move : they were to sleep until the
last day. She returned, took one of their hatchets and dispatched
ten of them in a moment, each with a single blow. An Indian wo-
man who was rising when she struck her, fled with her probable
death-wound ; and an Indian boy was designedly spared ; for the
avenger of blood was a woman, and a mother, and could not deal a
death-blow upon a helpless child. She surveyed the carnage ground
by the light of the fire which she stirred up after the deed was done;

AMERICAN LITERATUBE. 231

and catching a few handfuls of roasted corn, she commenced her
journey ; but on reflecting a moment, she thought the people of Hav-
erhill would consider her tale as the ravings of madness, when she
should get home, if ever that time might come ; she therefore return-
ed, and scalped the slain ; then put her nurse and English boy into
the canoe, and with herself they floated down to the falls, when she
landed, and took to the woods, keeping the river in sight, which she
knew must direct her on the way home. After suffering incredible
hardships by hunger, cold, and fatigue, she reached home, to the sur-
prise and joy of her husband, children, and friends. The general
court of Massachusetts examined her story, and being satisfied of
the truth of it, took her trophies, the scalps, and gave her fifty
poimds. The people of Boston made her many presents. All classes
were anxious to see the heroine ; and as one of the writers of
that day says, who saw her, " she was a right modest woman.'*
Has Anacharsis or Mitford, in their histories of Greece, any thing to
surpass this well authenticated story? Her descendants in aright
line and by the same name, are now living where she was captured.
The Indian tribes, at this period, had assistance from the French
in their several attacks upon the settlements, in 1688 to 1699, and
from 1703 to 1713, as well as afterwards. About the year 1717, .the
Indians on Kennebeck river began to show a disposition to quarrel;
but hearing that the small pox was prevalent among the whites^
they were deterred from any very open attacks. The small pox
was, in fact, very general in 1721, but in 1722, when it had abated,
Lieut. Governor Dummer, acting as commander-in-chief, sent Capt.
Harmon with an hundred men, in whale boats, up the Kennebeck,
and surprised the Indians at Norridgewock. Several of the Nor-
ridgewocks were killed, and with them father Ralle, a pious catho-
lick priest. He was sacrificed at the altar, while performing mass.
This required no justification in that period, but the act seems to
want one now, and that I am not prepared to make ; but our fa-
thers did not require many excuses from Indian killers; and perhaps
we are apt to find fault with them, without considering that if the
Indians had not been exterminated, the English must have been.
It was very clear to every mind, that, as they viewed each other, /

they could not exist together. In May, 1724, was Lovewell's fight, -j.^ W v A ' ' ^ "^
which has been mentioned before by us in these lectures. This
event has been commemorated both in verse and prose. After the
Pequod war, Connecticut had not much trouble from the Indians^
but they were ever ready to assist their neighbours when called
upon. There had existed from the first a readiness to assist each
other, a principle which grew out of the conunon danger, and which
now can hardly be understoood, except by those who have felt the

238 LECTURES ON

dread of a sarage foe coming in upon their wives and children with
indiscriminate massacre. Dming these struggles of New-England
for her existence, several of the other colonies were grievously an-
noyed.

In Virginia, the Indians had heen troublesome from the first set-
tlement, at Jamestown. In 1610, the colony of Virginia was redu-
ced from five hundred to eighty. From 1612 they kept in peace until
1622, chiefly by the good conduct of Capt. Smith, and a few of his
associates. In the year 1622, the Indians murdered three hundred
and forty-seven in one day, in Virginia. Harvey's arbitrary course
in encroaching upon the Indian territories, caused another insur-
rection in 16S9, in which five hundred of the colonists were slain.
While Philip's war was raging at the north. Bacon was rousmg up
the Indians to oppose the government of Governor Berkley, for
pretty much such a course as Harvey had pursued. In 1711, the
Cape Fear Indians of North Carolina, made war on that colony, and
after destroying about twenty families, were quelled by troops from
Virginia and South Carolina coming to their aid. T^e Virginians
and Carcdinians were never wanting in chivalry.

Up to this time, and in all the wars we have mentioned, the mo-
ther country did not help a finger to assist us in fighting our enemies.
They left thdr dear children to shift for themsdves, imtil it was
found quite convenient to fight France on our continent, and then a
deep interest was taken by the British ministry in the success of
our affiurs with the natives.

These wars with the Indians we have enumerated, were not the
oiily wars in which the colonies were engaged. In 1600, Col.
Phipps, as Douglass calls him, was fitted out by New-England with
seven himdred and fifty men, to attack the French settlement at Aca-
die ; and he took Port Royal, which was held imtil 1697, when En-
gland gave it to France. This year also, 1690, Phipps made an attack
upon Canada with a considerable force ; one thousand colonists and
fifteen hundred Indians were to proceed to take Montreal, but did not ;
and the naval force met with some disasters in going and retmning.
They began the enterprise too late in the season, and of course any one
might have expected what did happen— a total failure of obtaming
the object m view, with a great loss of lives. Cotton Mather gave a
great many reasons for all the evils which accrued, but a few short
ones would have been more correct, viz. : the force sent and the
commanders of them were unequal to the task; but there never was
a braver set of men than those who accompanied Phipps in this un- ^
dertaking ; tbey were of the best blood of the land ; virtuous, hardy,
persevering, bold, independent, high spirited citizens, who feared
God, and eschewed evil, but feared no danger by "flood orfire?^

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 233

This expedition was fitted out under the avowed intention of de-
fending the colonies against the French and Indians ; but the true
cause of the expedition might be found in the plans of the English
ministry, to do somethmg on this continent to keep an equipoise for
what might be lost in Europe; and in the vanity of Phipps, who,
having performed one exploit with success, thought that he was
bom for a conqueror and a statesman.

In 1710 and 1711, other attempts were made on Quebeck, but in these
the ministry were more liberal of means, and did not throw the bur-
den wholly on the colonies ; still, in this they were heavily taxed.
By an order from the British ministry, a Congress was to be assem-
bled at New-London, formed of the governors of the provinces
north of Pennsylvania, to concert measures with Nicholson, an offi-
cer of his majesty's army, at the head of the forces from England.
Two regiments from Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and New-Hamp-
shire, were to join the British troops destined for an attack on Que-
beck ; while the militia from Connecticut, New-York, and the Jer-
seys, with the Indians of the five nations, were to attack Montreal.
This expedition totally failed, with immense losses; and to finish the
tale of disasters, the admiral's ship blew up on her homeward voy-
age. These campaigns were committed to men unacquainted with
the country, and the best modes of fighting the Indians and their al-
lies, and were managed in so open a manner, that the French were
generally apprized of these intended attacks months before the
forces for the execution of them arrived. The colonies could at
any time have taken Canada, if they had thought it necessary for
their existence ; but the Canadians and English settlers on the At-
lantick were not jealous of each other ; nor unfriendly, until the pa-
rent country excited them to hostilities. Some of the historians of
that day say, that in this enterprise there were twenty-three thou-
sand men in arms, a greater proportion, according to the number
of inhabitants, than has ever been since. In 1744, a war broke out
between France and England. In January, 1744-5, the legislature
of Massachusetts, by a majority of one vote only, determined to
make an attempt on Louisbourg, then called the Dunkirk of Ame-
rica, from the strength of its fortifications. The forces raised were
small for the undertaking, consisting of about 3600 volunteers from
Massachusetts, New-Hampshire, and Connecticut, who effected the
reduction of this strong hold with the small loss of less than twa
hundred men. These troops were commanded by General Wil-
liam Pepperell. The others of note in this expedition were Briga-
dier Greneral Waldo, Cols. Moulton, Hale, Willard, Richmond, and
Gorham, of the infantry, and Cols. Dwight and Gridley, of the ar-
tillery ', the latter of whom fell afterwards at the battle of Bunker-
V 2 30

834 LECTURES ON

hill, with Capt Barnard, an excellent engineer, who had under his
command a train of expert and hardy artificers, mostly ship-car-
penters, a profession to which our country has in every exigency
been much indebted. Major General Wolcott, from Connecticut, had
a force of five himdred men who joined this army. The colony
of Rhode Island sent their province sloop, and the government of
New- York sent them several excellent cannon, which proved of
incalculable service in the campaign; and several of the govern-
ments south of New- York made the forces a present of some pro-
visions, and wished them God speed. Admiral Warren joined, with
a considerable fleet ; but nothing could have been achieved by naval
force alone. The provincials performed in this enterprise prodigies of
labour : they drew the heavy cannon over a morass, thought, by the
sagacious French engineers, to have been absolutely impassable, for
ordnance of any considerable weight. The provincials made sledges
and placed the cannon upon them, and in the thick fog, or in the
darkness of the night, dragged them to a proper distance fi*om the
walls to erect a battery. Some historians say that the men were
knee deep in the mire in this work ; but a veteran, who served in this
campaign, once told me that he was engaged in this labour, and that he
and his men used the snow-shoes which had been provided for the
winter, and found that they could work well with them on the mo-
rass. The besieged, seeing this battery and other formid^le prepa-
rations, capitulated on the 17th of June, 1745. This exploit Ijns no
parallel in modem history. This was glorious news in England ;
but the safety of the colonies was put in jeopardy by it, for the next
year the French ministry, sharpened at this unexpected disaster, sent
the Duke D'Anville, with a formidable force, to retrieve it, and lay
waste the towns on the seaboard. The discomfiture of this ar-
mada, and the death of the admiral, and all the tales of the pious
and superstitious, are written in the chronicles of that day, but are
too long for my purpose. There is one fact, however, which ought
never to be forgotten, which is, that seven thousand troops poured in
from the country, at this alarm, to save Boston and the neighbouring
seaports ; a wonderful army, considering the population of the inte-
rior at that day. Elated by the success of the provincials and their
fleet in taking Louisbourg, the English ministry were determmed on
another attack upon Canada. By an order from the duke of New-
castle, the secretary of state, the governors of the North American
provinces were required to raise as many companies, to consist of an
hundred men each, as they could spare. Those of New- York, New-
Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, to be formed into a
corps to be commanded by General Gooch, then lieut. governor of
Yirginia. In obedience to this order, Virginia sent two companies,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 235

Maryland three, Pennsylvania four, Jersey five, and New-York fif-
teen, making twenty-nine companies. These were intended for
Crown Point and Montreal. Massachusetts Bay raised twenty com-
panies, Connecticut ten, Rhode Island three, New-Hampshire two,
making thirty-five companies. These were to join the forces from
England against Quebeck. From misunderstanding, mismanage-
ments, and sickness, this mighty preparation failed. The difficul-
ties in this expedition, as in most undertaken by the mother country to
fight the French in America, principally arose from the disposition of
the regular troops to put the greatest burdens on the provincials,
and then to claim all the laurels for themselves. This was cause
of grievous complaint at that time.

In 1748, the peace of Aix la Chapelle was made, and the fortress
of Louisbourg was given up without any regard to the safety of the
colonies, the avowed object of the ministry in striving to obtain it.

In 1755, while there was yet a nominal peace between France
and England, hostilities were carried on in this country between
the colonies, and the Indians and French, assisted by troops from
England. There had been no formal declaration of war, when
Dinwiddie, governor of Virghiia, sent Colonel Frye and Lieutenant
Colonel Washington against the French and Indians; in which
enterprise the latter was so much distinguished, that when Brad-
dock arrived to take the command of all the forces in this country,
he made Washington his aid. The unfortunate battle of Mononga-
hela, on the 9th of July, 1755, in which Braddock was mortally
wounded, has so often been minutely narrated, that I will not
dwell upon it in this place. Braddock's fame has suffered in the
history of his country as well as in ours ; because he permitted
himself to be surprised. This alone ought not to tarnish his fame ;
for commanders, more acquainted with the savages than Braddock,
have been surprised and defeated long since the lesson from his
fate has been given. William Johnson, the same year, with a force
raised from New-England and New- York, was sent against Crown
Point, but he never reached there. Near the head of Lake Greorge,
the advance of his army was attacked by the French and Indians,
under the Baron Dieskeau, and driven into the main body, which,
after the fight began, had thrown up a few felled trees to protect
themselves. From this ground the enemy was repulsed, and Dies-
keau severely wounded. Johnson was knighted for the exploit,
but truth, since discovered, must give the honours of that day to
General Lyman, second in command, who fought the battle. John-
son having been wounded in the early part of the engagement, re-
tired from the field. In this battle, in the first part of it, fell the
celebrated Indian chief, Hendrick, who was in friendship with us,

285 LECTURES ON

and was fighting for the colonies. He was one of those men made
a chief by nature. He was fierce, bold, and persevering in fight,
and made the best arrangements for battle. He was as, politick as
brave ; but his superiority was in no small degree owing to his
wisdom and eloquence. Many of his remarks have come down
to us, and are as pithy as any of those ascribed to the ancients.
When asked if a certain number of troops were sufficient for a
particular expedition, he answered, " Tliey are too many to he
sacrificed, and too few to conquer?^

Montcalm succeeded to Dieskeau. He was an accomplished
ofilcer, who had served with great reputation in several campaigns
in Europe, and was sent to succour Canada. Offensive measures
were not within his calculations ; but finding that he was not likely
to be disturbed at Quebeck, or at Crown Point, he proceeded up to
Lake George, and made an attack on Fort William Henry, then
garrisoned by Colonel Munro with British and provincial soldiers.
The fort was in a low and badly selected place, and of course
fell, after an obstinate defence. Montcalm guarantied to the pri-
soners a safe conduct through the woods to the settlements on the
Hudson ; but, from what cause has never been explained, this article
in the terms of capitulation was totally disregarded. No sooner
had the march of the provincials commenced, than the Indians fell
upon these disarmed soldiers, the great objects of their hatred, with
infernal ferocity, butchering without discrimination all they over-
took. Driven to madness, some of the provincials were collected
and stood their ground, and when the savages came upon them,
they met their fire, and then rushed on their foes and struggled for
their arms ; and such was the success of this desperate attempt,
that arms and ammunition sufficient to check the assailants were
obtained long before the close of the bloody day. This track of
slaughter and horrour is now traced by the traveller as consecrated
ground : often has he put himself in health and spirit^ for such a
campaign at Saratoga Springs, whose medicinal waters had been
shown by Hendrick to Johnson, several years before the chief was
slain.

In 1756, Governor Shirley, of Massachusetts, who was a good
lawyer and excellent civil magistrate, conceiving himself to be by
nature made for a warrior, marched with a considerable force to
Oswego ; but that ground had as yet been very treacherous to the
fame of every military leader but Johnson, and he had barely
escaped a disasterous fate. Shirley returned vnthout all the laurels
he expected. He wrote a defence of himself, which goes to prove
that he was more successful than others hi the same campaign.

In the summer of 1758, General Abercrombie and Lord Howe,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 237

•with ten thousand regulars and six thousand militia, marched to
Lake George, and made preparation to attack Ticonderoga. They
moved down the lake, which had been called Lake Sacrament, from
the purity of its waters, in a thousand boats, in most magnificent
style ; but in this expedition, Lord Howe was killed, and nineteen
hundred and thirty-five of the provincials and British soldiers fell
in two hours, in the attack upon the fort, and the expedition ended
in a retreat. This was wholly owing to Abercrombie's disregard-
ing the advice of the provincial commander. General Winslow, an
experienced ofllcer. Lord Howe was a young man of high pro-
mise, and so much esteemed by the provmcial troops, that Massa-
chusetts, with the permission of the king, erected a monument to
his memory in Westmuifiter Abbey. General Winslow was a gal-
lant ofilcer, of commanding talents, and had seen much service ;
he was a descendant of the first and second governors of that name
of the Pl3rmouth colony, whose military prowess is identified
with the history of the coimtry. He was well educated, and had
gained the respect and confidence of the British officers, and the
affection of his own troops ; the papers of that day bear testimony
to his spirit in supporting the claim of his own men to distinction.
In this campaign, as in the preceding and following winters, the
Rangers, as a particular corps was called, performed extraordinary
feats. This body of troops was provincials, under the command of
Major Rodgers, an experienced officer ; GJenerals Putnam and Stark
were at this time captains in this body, and distinguished themselves
for bravery and skill. The journal of Major Rodgers is in print,
and is worthy the attention of the American reader, as the bravery,
fortitude, and sufferings, of these rangers, have no parallels in British
history. The British historians only glance at these exploits of our
countrymen, and we have had but few historians ourselves to re-
cord them ; in all these contests, the provincial army had to
pioneer the way, and met death and sufferings with a patriotick
ardour, but had none of a martyr's glory. The living provincial
soldiers saw the honours wrested from him in every battle, when
he had done his part, and more than his part, to serve his country
and his king.

At the close of this campaign, the military reputation of England
was at a low ebb. The world began to think England m her
dotage. One disaster had followed another so closely that these
things could hardly be considered the fortune of war only. In
Europe, from Italy to Russia, the historians and pamphleteers were
prophesying disasters to England, and declaring glorious omens
for France. The lilies were said to grow brighter every day.
The political seers looked at the great efforts of France, and at their

• i

t ' /'

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238 LECTURES ON

chain of fortifications, extending from the St. Lawrence to the
Mississippi, and called it the great bow of power around the Atlan-
tick settlements. At this gloomy period, when despondency seemed
^ . ,• to reign on this and the other side of the water, 4|]l|y^||^ was
made premier of England. This statesman had been a patriot
leader for many years, and had stemmed the torrent of corruption
and folly with fearlessness and energy. The disasters of his coun-
try raised him to power, and he brought all the resources of his
great mind to retrieve her misfortunes ; at once the war assumed a
new character. He broke down the syst«n, which had long been
practised upon, of sending those abroad who were not much want-
ed at home, and at once sdected the leaders of his armies from the
most determined of his generals. Amherst and Wolfe were sent
to America, and the result of the calculations of the ministry proved
their wisdom. Wolfe met Montcalm, and beat him ; Amherst with-
out difficulty marched over the same ground which his predecessor
had attempted and failed. Ticonderoga, Crown Point, and Mont-
real, yielded without a struggle, and the war was ended. In the
fame of Chatham, both hemispheres claim a share. He is identified
with his country's honour, not only during his administration, but
for ever. He saw, and gloried in the sight, that the language, the
manners, the principles of government, the laws, and the sciences
and hterature of England, were growing up robustly and firmly in
this extended country. He saw the current of liberty and law
flo\> ing with English blood, and identified his own country with
her colonies. America will never forget this great man ; we re-
joice in the thought that " his language is our mother tongue."
He knew the character of the colonies ; he appreciated their sacri-
fices, and did justice to their exertions; and was unwilling that
they should be trampled upon, and oppressed by exactions and in-
sults. He lifted his voice in their favour at all times, but it was
not always heard, as it should have been.

From the peace of 1763 to 1775, there was a constant course of
irritations and bickerings between the colonies and the mother
country. The colonies had been involved in debt, in support of
British wars, and had bled at every pore for her glory; there was
not a place on the frontier or seaboard, where the bones of the
colonists were not left to whiten; nor a fiEunily in the provinces
that did not mourn some member of it cut off in these wars ; but
all these things were forgotten, and a revenue was to be extorted
from them, against their will. The storm which had long been
gathering at length burst upon their heads. The battle of Lexington
opened the first scene of the drama which was to close in an eternal
separation of this comitry from England. It was hard to burst the

AMERICAN UTERATUBE. 280

ties of friendship and consanguinity. The colonies lored the name
of Briton, and fdt connected with her name and fortunes. Her
step-dame cruelty had wounded the hearts of her children, hut had
not extinguished their affections. The colonists had often entered
complaints, and sometimes murmured a threat; but at the same
time prayed that all might be well again soon. It was in vain :
the divorce was necessary, and has been useful to both nations,
and to the world. The mother country had wrong and contradic-
tory impressions of us ; they overrated our jiecuniary means to pay
taxes, and underrated the military talents which we possessed.
They called our determination, obstinacy ; our just indignation, a
fiictious spirit; opposition was denominated rebellion; and no
measure of indulgence could, consistently with the views of the
ministry, be productive of any thing but mischief. The pride of
the few in England overcame the judgement of the many; and the
appeal to arms became inevitable. The colonies found this could
not be averted by petitions, entreaties, or reasoning, and prepared,
as well as they could, for the worst. That day was full of fate to us ;
and by the protecting hand of Providence, we were preserved. It
should never be forgotton by us. All who live at this time, and
have come up since that period, can hardly realize the solemnity
and distress of this preparation for the conflict. After the battle of
Lexingtoi^, all were seeking for means of attack and defence. The
lead was stripped from the old fashioned diamond glass windows and
melted for bullets ; women gave their last flannel wrapper for the
use of the artillery in making cartridges ; every old firelock, whe-
ther of William and Mary or of Queen Anne, or those taken from
the French at Louisbourg or Quebeck, was mended up for fight
The pulpits rang with the duties of the christian soldier, and the
Bible heroes were emblazoned anew as examples for imitation.
The clergy were not only tongue valiant, but many of them joined
the train-bands, and were ready to fight the battles of freedom.
Matrons not only assisted to gird on the swords of their husbands,
but put the weapons of war into the hands of their beardless sons,
and urged them to the field of danger. Who could withstand such a
spirit? What foe could meet men so sent out? The whole of the
existence of the colonies had been preparing them for this sad crisis,
as it then seemed to all ; but which, in truth, was only the forerun-
ner to national independence and national consequence, in the eyes
of those who were first among the nations of the earth. A whole
people, as well as individuals, have their hours of despondency; and
this was one, indeed, for our own people ; but the minds of men,
women, and children, were all prepared for the struggle. There
was nothing of hasty impulse in their determination, nothing un-

340 LECTURES ON

thought of, by sire and son ; they had compared notes, and settled
the course to be pursued in any event. Another hour like this will,
perhaps, never again be found in the history of man. The English
were, as a nation, totally incapable of understanding the force of this
moral pressure upon a people so educated and so oppressed. It
was a subject worthy the attention of the philosophers of the mind,
and those who wished to analyze the laws by which nations are
governed, when oppression acts upon those " who know their
rights, and, knowing, dare maintain them.^^ This solemn deter-
mination which did not vent itself in words, but was ready to show
itself by deeds, was entirely misunderstood by those who pretended
to examine the tone of feeling, and to try the spirit of the people
ihey were sent to awe to silence and submission. There were a
few, indeed, who came to this country, and a few in England, who
had never been here, who clearly foresaw all that would happen,
for they were well acquainted with the nature, principles, and re-
sources of the people of America.

The battle of Bunker Hill was important in many respects. It
was fought on something like a systematick plan. The officers
had generally been in battle; many of them were at Louisbourg,
which had been taken just thirty years before, even to a day; and
others, at a later period, had been with Abercrombie, Amherst, or
Wolfe, on the frontiers. Putnam, Prescott, Gridley, Stark, and
many of the others, even to the common soldiers, had seen much
service. The British were not aware of the manner in which the
yeomanry were officered, and thought, or affected to believe, that
the show of force was nothing more than a rabble. The battle was
commenced as a matter of amusement by the British forces ; about
one half of those who were led up the hill between three and four
o'clock, had crossed from Boston to Charlestown at twelve o'clock,
and dined directly in full view of the American redoubt; they
were certain that as soon as a movement was made, the Americans
would run, and the battle-field would be their own, without danger
or bloodshed. The manner in which these troops were met was
deadly and tremendous ; all the beauty of the pageant was soon
over. In this battle, at least fifteen hundred of the flower of the
English army were slain in less than two hours, and a greater pro-
portion of their officers than usual. More than three hundred of the
corses of the slain were brought to Boston, and buried at the lower
part of the common, to hide the amount of their loss. Never was
there a more sudden and awful lesson than the British soldiers expe-
rienced on this memorable day. The provincials fought until all their
ammunition was expended, and they had seen the best and bravest
of all his Majesty's troops again and again retiring from the effect

"^ AMERICAN LTTBRATUKE. 841

of their fire. There were not too many of the provincials killed
for the desired effect of rousing the energies of the people, and
giving a solemnity to the occasion; and enough of the British to
show the provincials that regular soldiers were neither invulnerable
nor invincible. Had the Americans gained a victory, in all proba-
bility the ministry would have sent out twice as many soldiers for
the next campaign as they did. Tlie ministry were told this was
only a smart skirmish, and would not be repeated. The British
disguised, as much as possible, the effects of this battle on their
numbers, and more so the effect produced on the spirits of their
troops. The loss of General Warren made a great impression on
the minds of our people in every part of the country. His name,
as president of the provincial congress, as chairman of the com-
mittee of safety, his fame as a splendid orator, and his acknow-
ledged patriotism and bravery, had fixed him indelibly in the hearts
of his countrymen. They honoured others from duty and policy,
they followed him from affection. " The blood of the martyrs^ it
has been said, "loos the seed of the church?^ From this patriotls
blood, we may say, sprang myriads of armed men. The affecting
fable of the sacrifice of the Athenian virgins to the sea-bom mon-
ster, rightly read, is precisely this: that the best and purest of the
youthful blood of Athens was spilt to maintain their naval supe-
riority, as their only, or their best defence, in the infancy of their
existence. Our fate was similar ; our youthful blood was poured
out for the country. Long since the events of that memorable
day, the story of the fall of Warren has been told to children as
matter of example and excitement, and his name and his virtues
have come down to posterity with those of Washington. Great
occasions produce great men. Necessity is said to instruct her
children better in self-defence than other mothers.

For a century and an half the people of this country had been
educated in the school of self-defence. These lessons they were
often forced to write in characters of blood. They had been so
often thrown upon their resources, that they never suflered any
feelings of despair to weigh them down. They had known nothing
of the pageantry of war, nor its power in advancing one to wealth
and honour ; but they had been made acquainted with its difficulties
and hardships. They had a sufficiency of those native elements
which make courage a principle, and something of the experience
which makes it a habit.

We have opened upon the revolution ; but we cannot, at this mo-
ment, indulge in even a glimpse of the heroes of that war ; their
deeds, and their fame, shall be the burden of some future lectura
It is now the right time, perhaps, to write oot the memoirs of that
X 31

942 LECTURES ON

mge, and of these men ; for we are not so near the era of the revo-
lution as to catch, and to incorporate the partialities and prejudices
which were then abroad, into our opinions upon their merits ; nor
are we so far from that time, as to require the aid of fiction to fill up
our picture. We have been companions, in later times, with many of
the actors in those scenes ; and from our childhood have heard them
recount the circumstances of the revolution, most minutely, again
and again. There are, thank heaven, some few of these veterans
still lingering among the living; these can, yea, do assist us in
giving faithful descriptions of the scenes they witnessed, and cor-
rect delineations of the characters they have known. I know that
it is impossible for any one writer to do justice to all ; but another
may finish what one begins, and in the progress of time much may
l)e effected. I shall attempt to sketch some of these characters
hereafter, without any other pretensions than that of a sincere lover
of my country's talent, wherever, or whenever it may be found.
I have breatlied the same air, and trod the same soil, in common
with them, and that is something towards a fitnesss for my labour.
I will illustrate what is difllcult to describe. A gentleman from this
country, several years since, visited Italy, and became familiarly
acquainted with the great Praxiteles of modern times, Canova;
he was often at his rooms, and one day, while the great meister was
giving the last touch to his statue of Washington, the keen sighted
physiognomist observed by the countenance of his familiar visitor,
that he was making a comparison, in his mind, between this work and
an exquisite bust of Napoleon, on the table. The sensitive sculp-
tor exclaimed, but in his own sweet language, — "/ have seen the
emperor, and have breathed the air of France ; but I never
crossed the Atlantick — never saw your country — never heard the
voice of Washington."

As man is constituted, civil liberty cannot be preserved without
military strength ; sylvan scenes, and the golden reign of perpetual
peace, exist only in the dreams of the amiable theorist; they are not
in nature. Military prowess shows the muscular strength and
mental energy of a people, and often is a proof of their advancement
in arts and sciences ; for there is not a p£u*ticle of human knowledge,
but may be of use in a camp or on a battle-field. The higher the
science of war is carried by a nation, the more certainty there is of
her being at peace. There is an eloquence in cannon which reaches
a foe above all the silver-tongued instruments of art. The argument
from a full mouthed battery is powerfully convincing. The spirit
to defend may degenerate into a passion to conqtur. This, by a
people of cultivated minds, will be guarded against and prevented ;
fla^ and warriors should live together; but the disposition to

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 243

qaarrel is generally found to be in an inverse ratio with the ability
to fight History is full of proofs to this effect ; and ancient and
modem fiction furnish a thousand mirrors to reflect this truth. The
Lilliputians were constantly preparing their tiny bows and arrows
for an attack, and misconstrued courtesy into insult ; but the giants
of old seldom waged war ; and when they did, it was against the
gods they fought, sure of the sustaining power of their mother earth.

LECTURE XIV.

For what of thrilling sympathy,
Did e'er in human boeom vie
With that which stirs the soldier's breast^
When, high in godlike worth confest,
Some noble leader gives command,
To combat for his native land 1
No J friendship's freely flowing tide,
The soul expanding ; filial pride,
That hears with craving, fond desire^
The bearings of a gallant sire ;
The yearnings of domestick bliss,-—
E'en love itseli^ will yield to this.

Joanna BajTllie.

On the 2d day of July, 1775, Washington arrived at Cambridge,
and took command of the American army. He was not at this
time much known to the oflScers of that army ; but in addition to
his having been selected by the continental Congress, a body
which had the confidence of all the people, his personal appearance,
his military air, his sage demeanour, his attention to every minutisB
of the camp, and his punctilious regard to religious observances, at
once commanded respect and admiration. This soon ripened into
that enthusiastick veneration, which had before been rather the
creature of the imagination than the belief of the understanding.
This adoration, for it came as near it as any thing a mortal could
inspire, was never for a moment lessened by accident or reverse of
fortune. Washington had the undiminished affections of New-
England from that hour to the last moment of his existence. The

844 LECTURES ON

war had commenced in good earnest ; for a large army besieged the
town of Boston from this time mitil the next spring, when it was
evacuated by the British. The continental Congress soon began
to think of effective measures in attack as well as in defence. In
the fall of 1775, Generals Schuyler and Montgomery had been sent
from New-York to attack Canada. Ticonderoga and Crown Point
had been previously taken. The reasons which Congress avowed
for this offensive war were, the reports that General Carleton had
been stirring up the Canadians and Indians to harass our frontiers.
The plan of attacking Quebeck was a most magnificent one ; but
of very difficult execution. A detachment were to penetrate to
Canada from the Kennebeck through the wilderness. Twelve hun-
dred men were taken from Washington's camp for this service. The
commander in chief cast his eye around him, and with that power of
discrimination which in him was a peculiar trait of character, he
fixed on General Arnold, of the Connecticut troops, to command
this daring adventure. Arnold most cheerfully undertook it. The
crossing of the Alps by Hannibal was nothing to so bold an adven-
ture as this. The hunter had not passed over the ground ; nor had
man, civilized or savage, ever left a track of any kind for them to
follow. In the midst of famine and frost, they acted with decision
and firmness. Three hundred out of the twelve, after having pene-
trated far into the wilderness, were sent home for want of provisions,
and the others marched on. On the 31st of December, in the midst
of a snow storm, an attack was made on the city of Quebeck by
Montgomery's and Arnold's troops in different places. Arnold was
wounded and Montgomery slain. Montgomery was a gallant offi-
cer, and had seen much service ; and his death was deplored by
every lover of liberty. The assailants were repulsed ; but the city
was besieged for several months afterwards, by General Thomas
from Massachusetts, and General Sullivan from New-Hampshire ;
both officers of great merit. Thomas died in the campaign with
the small pox. He was one of the most mtelligent and experienced
officers in the American army.

The summer of 1776 was spent in watching the enemy, whose
forces were now large, probably not far from twenty-five thousand;
and our scattered forces were unequal for anything more than hold-*
ing the enemy in check. Despair sat at this time on every face.
The timid had begun to think in what manner their peace was to
be made with the mother country. It was at this moment of deep*
est despond^cy that the genius of Washington developed itself.
Whh an army of two thousand four hundred men, suffering in the
blast; an inclement winter having commenced, provisions be-
come scanty, and that distress which precedes sickness of heart,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 245

and recklessness of conduct, being depicted in every countenance^
Washington determined to make a dash upon the enemy, to recover
the lost tone of feeling, or perisdi in the attempt.

((.

Oh light and force of mind,

Next to almighty in aevere extremes 1"

On the 26th of December, the advanced guard of the enemy were
surprised and beaten at Trenton, with a slight loss on the side of
the victors. Hope again illumined our horizon. The soldier felt
the life blood flowing more warmly in his veins, and even the halls
of Congress resounded with the accents of eloquence, dictated by
hope of ultimate success. This victory was followed up by that
of Princeton, in which the gallant Mercer lost his life.

Immediately following these events, the European nations began
to look with interest on the scenes taking place in this country. At
the commencement of this year the chivalrous and patriotick La-
fayette came to assist us in our cause. The skirmishes which were
daily taking place, more often than otherwise, eventuated in favour
of the continentals, and the militia of the several states.

The next important circumstance, in the military history of our
country at that eventful period, was the taking of Burgoyne and his
army at Saratoga, on the 17th of October, 1777. This was truly
the deciding point of the conflict ; all who were doubtful of the
issue before were settled in opinion now ; and this was the general
impression, not only throughout this country, but in a large pro-
portion of Eurox)e. This event was so unportant in all its bearings
on our national aflairs, that I feel bound to give this portion of our
history in a bolder relief than I have, or can, any other epoch in our
military character and history.

Greneral Burgojme had, by his representations to the ministry of
Great Britain, induced them to furnish him with an army of ten
thousand men, with which he promised to come from Canada by
the Lakes 'Champlain and George to the North River, and from
thence to New-York city; thmking that by thus separating the
south from the north-east, it would so divide and dispirit the Ameri-
can forces, that they would soon yield to such terms as the British
were disposed to offer them. He, with a large body of regular
troops, and a considerable body of Indians, came to the fort at Ti-
conderoga, the most formidable work in North America. It had
been taken from the British by Col. Ethan Allen, early in the spring
of 1775, after the battle of Lexington, and before that of Bunker
Hill ; and was, when Burgoyne reached it, garrisoned by a conside-
rable army under Greneral St Clair, who had no apprehensions for
X2

M6 LECTURES ON

the safety of his fort. This fortress was an old French work of
great strength, and of gigantick dimensions, with walls from six to
ten feet in thickness, with a covert way to the waters of the lake.
"When the British army arrived in the neighbourhood, all was tran-
quil for several days, when it was, to the surprise of the Americans,
found that a blockhouse had been erected on Mount Defiance, an
eminence which overlooks the fort, and had been heretofore con-
sidered inaccessible to human foot, holding it in entire command.
St. Clair at once determined on evacuating his strong hold, and to
make his escape in the night ; this was attempted, and a few suc-
ceeded in making their escape ; but a great proportion of the forces
were taken or slain on their retreat This was a dreadful blow to
the fiseUngs of the north and east. Ticonderoga was considered
safe. It was an important post, and was dear to us from the pro-
vision of blood which had been shed there. The progress of the
British army became alarming; and from every quarter of New-
England and New- York they mustered without much regularity or
order, to stop its progress. Stark marched with the New-Hamp-
shire forces under the express condition that he should not be joined
to the continental forces. He had been irritated at what he con-
sidered neglect, in the selection and promotion of officers, after
Washington formed the army at Cambridge ; and on no account
would be placed under continental officers. The American army
every day increased ; but this did not alarm, in the slightest degree,
the British generaL His army was full of gentlemen of high rank
at home ; six of them at that time were members of Parliament, and
others were of the first circles of fashion in England. They had
thought the campaign would only be a mere pastime. With this
body of troops were several elegant women, who had followed the
fortunes of their husbands across the water, and through the wil-
derness ; among them was the Baroness of Riedesel, whose husband
commanded the German troops. She was a splendid woman;
gifted with genius, and blessed with an education of the highest
order, in the most polished courts of Europe: she was destined to be
the best and most pathetick historian of that memorable expedition.
The Baroness had a daughter bom in this country, and from the
kind treatment which she received here while a prisoner of war, she
gave the child the name of the country— America. Lady Harriet
Ackland was with the army; her husband was the gallant Major
Ackland, who afterwards fell in a duel defending the American
character for bravery. Lady Balcarras, a woman of great spright-
liness, was also in the curcle, besides a great number of ladies of
less note, but of high taste and accomplishments, the wives of offi-
cers less known to us than those we have mentioned.

AMERICAN LITERATURR 247

The Americans had rapidly assembled, and the British comman-
der moved on to Saratoga. When he reached the heights of that
place, he found his opposers so numerous, and so difficult to deal
with in every foraging party, that he thought it best to fortify his
camp as soon as possible. This was done with great skill, for Bur-
goyne had been bred a soldier, and had with him also some of the
most scientifick men of the British army ; many who had been bred,
as well as himself, in the school of Frederick the Great, who was
then living, and watching the movements of this revolution with
great interest.

Burgoyne had, on his entrance into the territory of New-York,
published a manifesto, which did not evince that good taste for
which the General had been distinguished ; but probably he mistook
the taste and feelings of those he came to subdue. This manifesto
was answered by Washington in a very forcible manner. • This
answer contains satire and argument conveyed in the most elegant
language. Its spirit is also line and bold ; the gasconade of the
English commander is met with manly defiance, and he was worsted
before the battle commenced, in a way he hardly expected. Bur-
goyne was said to have been a natural son of Lord Bingley ; some,
however, think that he had still more important relations. In 1762,
he had a command in Portugal. After his return to England, he
was chosen a member of Parliament, and became a privy counsel-
lor. Grallant, gay, learned, eloquent, and in the full sunshine of
patronage, he had taken the command of the northern army, and
indulged the hope of a brilliant campaign. The fates were against
him, and he was obliged to give up all his splendid visions of glory,
and prepare to defend himself before his king and country. In this
he was able; and one would think that he had offered a sufficient ex-
cuse for every thing but his ignorance of the foe he was to meet,
and his staying so long on the frontiers after St. Clair's retreat ; but
for this also he had a plausible excuse. The British ministry were
mortified and distressed at this unexpected failure ; and to turn the
popular indignation from themselves, they were obliged to sacrifice
their favourite. They ordered him to return forthwith to America
as a prisoner ; but this was not insisted upon ; yet, he was obliged
to resign all his offices and emolmnents, which were very consider-
able. He was still returned to Parliament, or held his seat there
from a previous election, and joined in the opposition to the con-
tinuance of the war ; warmly contending that America would pre-
vail. From the peace of 1783, he lived a retired life, until the 4th
of August, 1792, when he died, as it was stated in the papers of that
day, by a fit of the gout in the stomach. An American royalist^
who was in England, and resided within a few doors of his dwelling

848 LECTURES ON

informed me that he fell by his own hand, a prey to disappomtment
and neglect There never arose a man in Great Britain who for a
time held so many important offices, and on whom so much reliance
was placed, of whom the world knew so little. A mystery hung
about him from the cradle to the grave, and that, too, in a country
where there are but few secrets of any domestick or political
nature.

The American army engaged in this enterprise, contained many
fine officers. Schuyler was a man of great good sense and experi-
ence, having been an officer in the war of 1755 to 1763. He pre-
ferred to assist in saving his country, rather than to put it in jeo-
pardy by resentment at losing the honour of commanding the
army in the campaign of 1777, after he had prepared the forces for it.
General Morgan, the bold and intrepid Virginian, was there, and
most efficient in the discharge of his duties, as he was through-
out the whole war. Arnold was also one of the most intrepid
soldiers in the campaign. Lincoln was there also ; he was one of
the most bold and discreet of the revolutionary generals. Brooks,
whose share in this event, every historian of the war has celebrated,
and with whose merits tne present generation have been made ac-
quainted, lived to give us many minute circumstances of the taking
of Burgoyne, which otherwise would have been lost ; Dearborn
and Hull had their share in the honours of that day ; and many
more who deserve the meed of honour from the future historians,
who may arise to give to distant ages the deeds of the men who
fought and bled to achieve the liberties we now enjoy.

In this year, 1777, there were fifty thousand troops composing
the British army forthecarryingon the American war. Twenty
thousand under Sir William Howe; ten thousand under Bur-
goyne ; four thousand under Sir Guy Carleton at Quebeck, and
sixteen thousand at New-York and Nova Scotia. These troops were
supported at an immense expense, and it had cost great sums to tran-
sport them to this country. Their bounty money, equipment^
transportation, and support for six months, was at least an hundred
pounds sterling a man. From this period, the war was not pushed
by England, as it was expected to have been. They seemed to
wish to exhaust the patience of the Americans, as they were satis-
fied that it was impossible to conquer them by constant fighting.
The American and English troops often came in contact, with
varied success, but the enemy soon found that this was not a war to
be decided by a few battles ; for when they thought the provincial
troops entirely routed, these very forces were forming again in
the neighbourhood, and preparing to harrass those they had not
force enough to subdue. The affairs at Stoney Point were wcU

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 240

conducted, and those at Monmouth and Guilford Court House, if not
of vital importance to the American cause, or if they could not be
called absolutely victorious, were, all things considered, rather en-
couraging than otherwise ; and that at Eutaw Springs was suffi-
ciently decisive to lead directly to those measures which terminated
the war, by the taking of Lord Comwallis and his army at York-
town. I have not mentioned these battles with the intention of
giving any sort of account of them, but only to show what energy
of mind was exhibited, and what exertions were called forth at
every period of the revolutionary conflict. That there were mo-
ments of depression, and instances of faint-heartedness, cannot be
denied ; but firom the opening of the drama until the curtain fell,
the acting was, in general, noble, and more or less brilliant and
successful as the scenes shifted. Unity of plan, and stability of
purpose, were evident from the beginning to the end.

Each state might justly be proud of the share of talents and cou-
rage it furnished for this long and bloody conflict ; which diminish-
ed the population, exhausted the resources of the country, and
stagnated business from Greorgia to Maine. The floods of paper
money which had poured forth in torrents, had become worthless
as the fallen leaves of Autumn ; penury and distress were the re-
wards of the brave and the patriotick; and many of those who
had fought and bled in defence of the liberties of the people, on
returning home, saw their former earnings dwindled away, and felt
that it was necessary to commence the world anew with injured
constitutions and a soldier's habits. A good portion of them,
thank heaven, were sufficiently elastick to rise from this depression,
and to join in the great work of building up our free institutions,
and of laying the foundation of our national prosperity.

Those who perished on the field, and those who survived to join in
the labours of civil and political life, for many succeeding years, should
not be forgotten by us their descendants. It is the duty of the legis-
latures of every state to make the greatest exertions to do justice to
her portion of these heroes. It is indeed a national subject, but each
state have better means, or those more directly within their reach, to
give their history to the world. Most of those who have been engag-
ed since the days of the revolution in the affairs of the nation, or
who at the dose of the war retired to private life, are gone ; a few only
remain, and these few are now imploring the representatives of the
people for some remuneration for their labours and privations
endured half a century ago.

The generosity of the nation to La&yette, has met, throughout all
this repubUc, with universal approbation. The old soldiers Were
willing that the gallant general ahoxM know and acknowledge the

200 LECTURES ON

troth, that republics were not always ungrateful ; yet he could not
comprehend the reasons that operated in preventing his own officers
from coming in for a share also. It is but seldom that legislative
bodies are induced to do generous acts j these ought not to be ex-
pected of them often ; but when such acts are found in the statute-
books, they should be transferred to the pages of history, and preser-
ved as a perpetual memorial, from generation to generation. The
liberality of the United States to Lafayette, should be handed down
as one ; and along side of it should be placed the pension law, which
relieved the wretched soldier who was wasting the last sand of his
life in hopeless indigence. The construction of this act for the re-
lief of these war-worn veterans was narrow, cold, and cutting, but was
dictated, however, by prudential motives, and perhaps, on the
whole, was for the best, as parsimony might have obtained a repeal
of the law which distributed the bounty that justice had attempted to
secure. Has the country gone far enough in this liberal work ? Is
there not a debt due to the few surviving officers of the revolution ? If
popularity is one object of legislation, (and why should it not be,
when the people have the means of judging as well as their rulers?)
what easier or more direct course can there be pointed out to find it,
than by doing an act of justice to these venerable relicks of another
and a former age ? Who is there bold enough to say aught against
the law passed for the relief of the poor soldier? No one, in any
place, and at anytime, has murmured aught against this deed of jus-
tice and honour. Not even the ambitious politician, haranguing be-
fore those who had a vote to give only upon the promise of retrench-
ment and reform, ever ventured to promise that he would use his
exertions to have the pension law repealed. No ; nor has the miser,
when nightly visiting his hidden stores, cursing taxation for every
national object, ever breathed a syllable against the pension law.
The language of his heart is, demolish the capitol; sink the navy;
disband the army ; raze your fortifications to the ground ; disperse
your national legislature ; secure with locks and bars your treasu.
ry J but avarice never suggested to him to wish for the repeal of the
pension law.

Those who, in cases of danger, do deeds of gallantry in feats against
the enemies of our country, should be properly maintained while liv-
uig, and duly honoured when dead. This course will secure a suc-
cession of brave defenders of our country in every emergency. Not
all of a nation's gratitude and bounty should be lavished on a few
distinguished individuals, but only on those whodischarge their duty in
a manner worthy notoriety. The first thing to be done is to see that
they do not suflfer for the comforts of life ; the next, that when
dead their names ahaH be recorded, for their descendants to be

■jr-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 261

able to look back on their deeds and services, as a stimulus for them
to do likewise when called to act in similar situations. Those
worthy of more consideration for services and sacrifices, should have
monimients erected to their memories in places where the citizens
are most interested in their fame — among their kindred and descen-
dants. These records, history should take in charge, and give such
pages in her annals as the departed may deserve, or their country's
gratitude decree. We are doing something at all these, for the old
and brave defenders of their coimtry ; but have Ive done enough
for their merits, or our honour ? Montgomery has a monumental
slab to tell his merits, although his ashes reposed for forty years
unmarked by even a rude stone. Some few others have been re-
membered sJso ; momentary excitements have been evinced, and
at times have produced honourable results. The Bunker Hill asso-
ciation is, of all we have seen or heard of, the best. It originated
in a good spirit ; a feeling of patriotism and gratitude ; and is pro-
ceeding regularly and systematically. The monument they will
erect, rises slowly but will stand permanently. The stone and
mortar they may put together is but a small part of the plan sug-
gested. The society is hereafter to be the repository of all the
relicks of the antiquities of our country, and will keep a perpetual
vigil upon Time, that his followers. Carelessness and Oblivion, may
be robbed of their power to deface his records.

The treasures of a nation consist in the virtue and knowledge
they possess, and in the character of their fathers, with the institu-
tions they left to their posterity. As a people enjoy the property,
it becomes a matter of principle to preserve the memory of those
from whom they inherit. Except in some rare instances, the nation
at large cannot take care of the fame of individuals. In small
communities, a distinguished individual is well known to every
member of the body politick ; but when a country is very exten-
sive, this is seldom the case. The reputation, then, of our worthies,
in every high place in life, or in every walk of intellect, must be
preserved by those of the kindred and friends, and people dwelling
near the scenes of his actions, and within the atmosphere of hi?
virtues. The smallest ecclesiastical or civil association should be
impressed with this duty. Let the parishes begin ; the towns and
cities, counties and states, will foUow. Some record should be
made of the character and services of every one who acted his
part with honour, at or near his death. This obituary, made short
and simple in the parish record, might be expanded in those of the
town or city, and when the services had been considerable, they
would of course be enlarged, from time to time, as their merits
were more fully disclosed. We are now indebted for half our facts

«« LECTURES ON

in the biography of our countrymen, particularly those of an early
date, to some pious effiisions of the pastor of his church, at
the death of the parishioner. The wish to know and be known
has been, and ever will be, one of the great springs of human
action. Hence, in ancient days, the connexion between the poet
and the hero was sacred ; and every one who harnessed himself for
the fight, knew if he fought well, that he should not be forgotten
when he slept in death ; for the life of his minstrel was not subject
to the chances and accidents of war. These minstrels noted every
incident of battle, and their productions were scattered through
Greece ; and were chaunted at every festival, until Homer came,
and by his all-powerful grasp of genhis, compressed them into one
unextinguishable flame of light and glory. It has been said, that
science, in ancient days, invented lamps which burned perpetually
in the tombs of their heroes. This was only the metaphorical
language of the heroick ages, and only meant to convey the thought
that the poets and historian had bathed in perpetusd light — ti^at
light which is the fire of their own genius— the worthies they chose
to commemorate and immortalize. The love of fame is as ardent,
and as universal now, as it was then, in every man ; but the nations
are not so susceptible now, as in the days of Greece and Rome, or
in the ages of chivalry. The local importance of a man is not,
and cannot be conveyed to the remote parts of a distant land, and
not lose something of its altitude and dimensions. A political
po]pularity is often occasional and transitory, and like a burst of
smoke, is soon swept away by some countervailing current of the
popular breeze ; but that reputation which consists in thinking
right and acting well, is often as permanent in this as in any pre-
vious age. Every day some new road is opened to the temple of
Fame, and the votaries are as ardent as ever. The ambitious
man, perhaps, reaches the fane first, but the wise one secures the
niche in which he is to repose forever. The politician should write
his deeds upon the pillars that prop the state ; the man of science
and letters should embalm his reputation by lus works ; and when
the soldier shall be inquired for, the answer should be, " he rests
with all his country's honours blest." Saints and philanthropists,
who blush at the reputation of their own good deeds, cannot be
forgotten, for Fame has them in special charge ; her conuuands will
forever be imperative.

" Rise Muses, rise, add all your tunefiil breath,
They shall not sleep in darkness and in death."

The best of all honours that can be paid the dead, is a grateful

AMERICAN LirERATURfi. 868

remembrance of their services ; but as we are constituted^ some
sensible, tangible memorial, is indispensably necessary to keep their
deeds fresh in our memories ; hence, in every age and nation, monu-
ments have been erected, and inscriptions written, to perpetuate the
fiune of those who were distinguished among men, in their day
and generation.

The character of a country is involved in the honours paid their
dead. Inmiediately after the death of Washington, the representa-
tives in Congress, penetrated by grief at the exit of this great man,
and feeling, at the moment, a deep sense of gratitude for his long
and invaluable services, passed a resolution, requesting the presi-
dent of the United States to solicit Mrs. Washington, the relict of
the general, to consent that his mortal remains should be at the
disposal of Congress. The answer of Mrs. Washington, to this
request, is delicate and dignified.

The seat of government was then at Philadelphia; but was to be
removed the next year to Washmgton City. Only one wing of the
capitol was then built; but, in the plan of the whole buildmg, the
rotunda was to be as large as it now is; and in the ground story of
ibis was to be a tomb for the burial of the father of his country.
This suggestion, perhaps, does honour to their feelings, for the
moment, but is no credit to their taste and judgement The sleep-
ing place of the dead should be in consecrated ground, unoontami-
nated by party strife or unhallowed bustle.

The subject, after the first moment of grief, was suffered to die
away, but the plan remained on paper ; and when the dome was
erected, after the wings were destroyed by fire, the foundation of it
was constructed in the form of a large cemetery. The intentions of
Congress were not carried into effect ; the mighty shade of Wash-
ington could not be sufficiently sanctified to the living, in such a
place. If the dead walk abroad in the majesty of ethereal nature,
it would find no consolation here. The crypt, just over the tomb,
has, until the past year, been the haunt of unclean birds, in various
forms. To have placed the sacred dust of Washington in such a
proximity to vice and profligacy, would have been high profana-
tion. It is well that the country have yet the debt of erecting for
him a tomb to discharge, because, a better taste has sprung up, and
been cultivated; and the nation must, and will redeem her pledge,
and give the illustrious hero and patriot a monument worthy his
name and the ability of the country. Europe and Asia are adorned
with numerous monuments of departed greatness. The classical
tourist finds them at every step in ancient cities and villages in
Europe, and the adventurous traveller in the east, counts the pyra-
Y

S64 LECTURES ON

mi^and temples erected to the honour of those who once shook
Khe" dearth with their power and pride — or to the sons of genius, who
HiYe filled the world with their glory. Many of these monuments
have heen spared by time, who leaves, for the contemplation of
man, only a few relicks of past ages. These are the records that
the thinking and the wise are anxious to read and understand, while
they pass by myriads of hving men, in the same countries, without
interest or notice. These monuments, covered with the hoar of
ages, and enwrapt in a spell, never cease to charm the man of
euf losity and taste ; and, at the same time, they aid the learned in
penetrating the depths of ancient lore. They are the remembran-
ces of what have been, and the teachers of what shall be ; the reve-
lations of past ages, and the prophecies of future times.*

■ft has been the fate of many of our revolutionary heroes, who
were of secondary rank, to ^ink into the grave unhonoured and un-
Imown. They died in discharge of their duties, and were, perhaps,
named in a passing remark, and then thought of no more by the
great mass of the people. This was in some measure excusable,
when the nation was struggling for existence, and all classes were
devoting their Uves and fortunes to the sacred cause of freedouL
But the present generation are at ease, and in the enjoyment
of the earnings of their fathers, and therefore ought to rescue any
deserving name from oblivion. We are a generous people in our
sympathies, and have mourned over the fate of the unfortunate
Andre, who fell a victim to the laws of nations, in the prime of his
"ilife, for the very reason that his case has been presented to us in
i^cvery form of prose and verse by those of his own country, and we
read all they write ; while one of our kindred and brethren, as
young, as accomplished, and as unfortunate as Andre, has hardly
been mentioned by an obituarist or historian. Nath^^H[ale2^a martyr
in the cause of liberty, is a name almost unkno^^^J^country-
men ; but it is time that we should be familiar with his reputation.
He was bom in Connecticut, and was graduated at Yale College,
in 1773, with exalted reputation as a scholar, and a lofty, high-
minded man. He was contemporary with Dwight, Barlow, and
Humphreys, who often mourned his untimely fate, and cherished
his memory by toasts and eulogies. Some of the lines of Dwight, on
the melancholy occasion of Hale's death, are still extant ; they breathe
the affection of a friend,,and are almost too true, solemn, and pathetick,
to be poetical. It was a dark and gloomy period in the history of
our country; and he, with many other young men, caught the ^ark
from their fathers^ in fact, anticipated them in preparmg for the great

*See Appendix, note B,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 255

struggle that was to ensue. At the moment the war broke out, he
obtained a commission in the Connecticut line, and took the com-
mand of a company in Col. Knowlton's regiment, and was with the
army in their memorable retreat from Long Island, in 1776. After
Washington had succeeded in an enterprise so much favoured by
Providence, he was for a while ignorant of the movements, num-
bers, or disposition of the British army ; and anxious to get all pos-
sible information of their movements or intentions, he applied to
Col. Knowlton for a discreet, intelligent, enterprising, and bold officer,
to penetrate the enemy's camp, and bring him the desired informa-
tion. Knowlton made known the request of the commander in
chief to Hale, who was the charm of every polished circle, and the
delight of the army, the soul of honour, and " bravest among the
brave." At the first moment it was named to him, he shrunk at the
thought of becoming a spy ; but reflecting that it was Washington
who required his services, and his country that was to be benefited,
perhaps preserved, by his accepting the arduous and perilous ap-
pointment, he gave up all scruples, and instantly prepared for the
adventure. He passed in disguise to Long Island, examined the
British camp, and having satisfied himself on every point of his
mission, he was apprehended on attempting to return 5 and being
carried before Sir William Howe, and finding every thing was known
to the enemy, he boldly declared himself and his object in visiting
the British camp. Howe, without a trial, or even the forms of a
court-martial, ordered him for execution the next morning. He was
confined for a single night, and had only an opportunity to write a
few lines to his mother and sister. As he had led a religious life,
he asked for a clergyman to attend him in his dying moments, but
this request was denied, and he was not permitted to have even a
Bible for a moment's consolation. A guard of pitying soldiers, with
the provost-marshal, attended him to the fatal tree. The provost-
marshal, the common abhorrence of the camp, excited a more than
ordinary share of disgust, by the brutal manner in which the wretch
executed his victim. The firmness and composure of Hale did not for
an instant desert him, and he died regretting that he had but one life
to lose in the sacred cause of his country — the cause of freedom and
the rights of man. The veteran soldiers wept like children at his
untimely fate, wondering that a rebel could die so much like a hero.
The letters that he had written were destroyed ; for they were so
full of fortitude, resignation, and consciousness of duty, even in this
great sacrifice, that it was thought dangerous to let the Americans
know that they had ever had such a man. When the news of his
execution reached the American camp, every one, from the com-
mander in chief to the humblest soldier, looked as if some general

256 LECTURES ON

calamity had overtaken the anny. If his death was just, the manner

of it was execrable ; and a deep and settled resentment was mingled

with their grief, which was not forgotten in the future events of the

war. It was policy, perhaps, in the methods of reasoning in the

British army, to strike terror mto the hearts of the American solr

diers, and to frighten them at once to allegiance. They knew not

( the people they had to deal with ; for they were not to be shaken by

\ threats, nor awed by terror. They could have been won by kind-

\ ness, but this was never shown them. Lictors and the axe were

yioo honourable for men who had dared oppose the mandates and the

arms of the mother country ; the accursed tree alone would answer.

Little did the executioners of Hale think that such an awful hour

of retribution was coming as did come.

It is valiant to fight bravely when our firesides and altars are
invaded. He who falls in such a conflict, sleeps with all his coun-
try's honours blest: monuments and epitaphs are given him, and
his children find a rich inheritance in his fame. But what is this to
staking one's life and reputation together — and staking them for
love of country; to throw off the garb of distinction, which is, and
should be, a soldier's pride, and covering one's self in disguise, for
the purpose of visiting, in secresy, an enemy's camp, to discover
his nakedness or strength, not for one'^s own fame or emolument^
but for the general good % It is above the common martyr's fame ;
above his glory. It is, if it can be justified at all — and nations,
polished, wise, and noble, do justify it — the highest of all mortal re-
solves. To die is nothing ; to sleep in the bed of glory is a common
lot, often an enviable one, and should never be contemplated with
horror by a brave man who draws his sword in a good cause ; but
to think of the chances of an ignominious death, a dishonoured grave,
closed without funeral knell, or muffled drum, or ^^ volley of solemn
soldiery;^* Oh! it is too much to think on; and can never be en-
dured without dismay, unless the living fire of patriotism is burning
with all its fierceness and unquenchable intensity.

The execution of Hale was avenged before the war was over, by
the death of Major Andre. Justice was stem and inexorable in his
fate ; but her decrees were not disgraced by bruijdity. Andre was
tried by a court-martial, and had an opportunity to defend himself.
His time was protracted beyond that usually allowed a spy; he was
treated with kindness; allowed to communicate with his friends;
to write to his kindred ; to dispose of his property ; to do every thing
but escape his sentence, which the laws of nations would not suffisr,
and the severe law of retaliation, often a preventive of the progress
of bloody crimes, forbade. For Andre's fame the British nation have
done every thing; reared him a i^onugaeQt, pensioned his ixK)4itif^

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 267

and sisters, transported his bones to his native land, and laid them
in the tomb of royalty. It is in vain that we ask our countrymen,
where sleep the ashes of Hale t

The gallant Pole must not be forgotten : Pulas ki was as chival-
rous as a baron of romance. He landed uJBHour shores an exile,
and threw the energies of his character into our cause— the cause
of freedom and of man. He preferred the wilds of America to the
refinements of European courts, to most of which he would have
been welcome. With the enthusiasm of a crusader, he drew his
sword in our cause. Military glory and love of freedom were the
strong passions of his soul. His ancestors were soldiers ; and ma-
ny of them fell, foremost in the fight, while the glow of early man-
hood was upon them, and slept in the bed of honour. He felt, and
declared, that to be alive with a head white with the snows of age,
was a stain on his family name ; and he feared, in the wild and
romantick valour of his soul, that a winding sheet unstained with
blood would be disgraceful to him. If Pulaski saw not the close
of the contest, he died as he wished, in the fury of the fight, and
rests in his grave in a warrior's shroud. No solemn dirge, no
peaceful requiem, soothed the hero's shade ; the hasty funeral rites
of the battle-field alone were his. Such honours only were suited
to the genius of the dead. His monument is about to arise.

Nor shall that milder, but more pure and lasting light of bravery
and virtue fade from our gaze. The youthful, patriot-warrior,
KoscjjiskO} will forever rank high among our revolutionary wor-

iies. He was devoted to arms from his birth : a shield was his
cradle, and the instruments of war were his playthings in childhood.
In the joyous days of youth, the gravity of years was on his brow.
Nurtured by the great, yet he felt for the humble. Liberal in po-
litical sentiment, beyond the age in which he lived, he burst from
the saloons of beauty and tne sunshine of courts, to share the fare
and the fate of a republican soldiery, in a perilous and a doubtful
contest. His generous bearing and high attainments secured to him
the confidence and admiration of the officers and soldiers of the
north and south. All loved him as a brother; and Washington
carried him in his bosom, as a child of his warmest affections. At
the close of the conflict, he snatched a coal from off our altar of
freedom, and kindled it upon that of his own country; kindred
spirits gathered around him, and freedom, for a while, smiled on
their efforts ; but the time, in the destiny of nations, for the eman-
cipation of Poland, had not come. Kosciusko survived his coun-
try's second thraldom, and passed the remainder of his days in the
bosom of retirement — the pride of nations, and an honour to the
human race. He sleeps with the mighty dead of his people ; but,

258 LECTURES ON

as yet, no monument marks his resting place ; the honour of rear-
ing the first pillar to his name must be claimed by us ; but it did
not arise from a resolve of Congress, nor from a statute of a state
legislature, or from the sympathy of compatriots ; no — his monu-
ment sprang up from the spontaneous resolve of a generation, bora
long since Kosciusko left our shores; from a body of youthful
patriot**, devoted to the attainments of science and the practice of
arms, for the future defence of their country; for the cadets, at
West Point academy, this deed was reserved ; their Campus Martis
was his beloved retreat ; here he meditated new deeds for himself,
new glories for Poland.

Besides the good and great La Fayette, there are others among
the French troops came to-^8P^!^Tfi5t should not be forgot-
ten. Several never returned to their native country ; one of them
is tlie subject of the following notice. When a permanent seat
of government was determined on, and that to be laid out on the
banks of the Potomack, an engineer of talents and experience was
sought for by Washington for this service. Pierre C. L'Enfant, an
officer of the French army, who had come to our snores to' assist
in achieving our independence, was selected by the president to
superintend the business. His views were on a most magnificent
scale, and those of his great employer were, perhaps, equally
expanded. The engineer began his work with the enthusiasm
of a Frenchman, and identified himself with the future glory of
the federal city ; and why should not the man of science be re-
membered, as well as the patriot and politician 1 He knew but little
of the elements of a republick. L'Enfant was held in high con-
sideration during the life of Washington, Adams, and Jefferson.
He had nothing avaricious in his nature, but only wanted honour-
able employment and competent means of subsistence.

While engaged in superintending the building of Fort Warburton,
now Fort Washington, nine miles below the city of Washington,
he was dismissed from the publick service. The scanty means of
the treasury ill comported with the plan he had designed, and was
then proceeding to execute. He thought that the fort defending
the metropolis of this great republick, should be on a scale that
imperial engineers should admire, and those of our country should
imitate in all future ages of their greatness. On being dismissed,
his proud heart was near breaking. His accounts were ordered to
be audited and settled ; but he spumed to receive the amount due him,
which was said to be very considerable. The country owed him
employment ; he wanted no pension ; he would receive no wind-
ing up settlement on being thrust out of office. The country
should be every way indebted to him, was his mode of reasoning.

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 269

He lived several years after he was deprived of his employments ;
and still in the city he had planned. He was proud and full of his
wrongs ; he never could forgive the pitiful spirit that deprived him
of duties to perform, and means to live. So far did he carry this
feeling, that he never would lift up his eyes to look towards the
fort he had been building. In these latter days he was seen in all
seasons of the year, taking his long walks over the high grounds of
the city, silent and alone— not even muttering his wayward fancies,
but wearing the calm, solenm, dark look of wounded feeling and
inflexible resentment. In the independence of his soul, he shrunk
from sympathy, and turned with a sense of degradation from the
offers of the generous and kind hearted. For years he wore the
same thread-bare long French coat, and thin nankin pantaloons,
and folded his arms on his breast, as it were to keep the citadel,
the heart from growing callous, or being overcome by its own
griefs and resentments. The people, in general, of Washington,
thought that his brain was touched by his injuries. Those who
knew him well, knew all was sound there ; the disease was on his
heart. His great friend, and revered general, was now dead ; his
ashes were reposing at Mount Vernon, and those who had come
up since, knew but little of him. L'Enfant was brave, generous,
and manly, to the last. When the British were in possession of the
city, and most of the inhabitants had fled in every direction, he
went about in every street and square, to find those females who
could not fly, or had courage enough to stay ; and consoled them by
assurance that the enemy would not disturb them ; and on this oc-
casion seemed to wake to new life himself : and assuming a cheer-
ful manner, he entertained them with every thing a Frenchman, a
wit, and a soldier, could command, to make them tranquil and con-
fiding. The English troops knew, from his martial air, that the
old gray-haired man had once set a squadron in the field ; and they
had so much respect for the veteran, that he wandered where he
pleased, and was listened to with attention when he spoke. He
died about ten years since. There is no monument erected to his
memory; no epitaph has been written to condense his history, or to
evince our gratitude. There were some generous spirits in the
city, who strove by every delicate courtesy to soften the hardships
of his closing scenes, and in some measure succeeded. He was too
sensitive to be approached directly; but true generosity never hesi-
tates to assume almost any shape, to do good to the unfortunate, who
still preserve a lofty bearing.

It is now but Uttle more than half a century since the first settle-
ments were made in Kentucky ; and now the whole valley of the
Mississippi swarms with an active and adventurous population en-

aeO LECTUBES ON

joying the comforts and elegancies of life, and cultivating the arts,
sciences, and letters, with zeal and success, vying with her elder
sisters of the republick for the palm in improvements and taste.
The man who first led the way to this fruitful land, and who
built the first habitation for civilized man in the wilderness beyond
the mountains, cannot be too often remembered, or too much
noticed. The histor y of Boone, if no t entirely unique, belongs to
the romantick spirit" of the early 'ages. A short sketch of him
may be acceptable to many.

He was bom in Maryland, in 1746 ; but removed to the moun-
tains of Virginia, when only eighteen years of age. Here he
led the life of a hunter, then a profession known and respected by
the agriculturists and other classes of society. He loved the rifle
and the flaying knife more than all the implements of peaceful,
quiet industry. The dangers of such a life had no terrors for him ;
the risks incident to it gave a zest to existence, known, perhaps,
only to the brave and enterprising hmiter himself ^ but can in part
be imagined by those acquainted with his character. In 1769,
Boone extended his travels to Kentucky. If he was not the first
hunter who had ventured so far, he was the first who induced his
countrymen to follow him, in order to make a settlement in these
remote wilds. From 1769 to 1775, he visited the country, and ex-
plored it pretty thoroughly, regardless of the hardships and depri-
vations he endured, and in this latter year brought his family from
Virginia, with others, to plant a colony in a plain now known by
the name of Boonesborough. He was made a captain under the
last royal governor of Virginia, but his native elements were all in
favour of freedom ; and he, or some of his followers, were camped
on the spot where the largest city of Kentucky now stands, when
the news of the first act of the revolutionary conflict reached them.
Fired by the same spirit which animated their distant Atlantick
brethren, they shouted for the fight, and consecrated the spot by
giving it the name of Lexington, the name of that sacred ground
which drank the first blood that was shed in the war of indepen-
dence. The personal conflicts, the hair-breadth escapes, the suc-
cessful onsets, the repeated victories of Boone, would make a volume.
These will no doubt be written ; but there can be no excuse necessary
for giving him a passing notice when his deeds are so directly be-
fore us. It is said by those who knew him, that there was nothing
fierce or savage in his nature; no love of blood, no passion for con-
test in his disposition ; but he loved freedom, loneliness, and enter-
prise. He feared no hardships, and shrunk from no dangers,
when necessity or duty prompted him to act ; yet was at all times
the most cautious of men, }I^ met the wiles of the Indian with

AMERICAN LITERATLrKIS. Mi

still greater. At times they took him for a good, and at other times,
for an evil spirit. When they thought they had him in their power,
he was gone ; and often when they believed he was on the other
side of the hills, or over the prairies, he was upon them, to disperse
or destroy them. Their arrows did not reach him, nor their balls
wound him, and at last they became convinced that "he bore a
charmed life."

Boone had but little acquaintance with books ; his study was na-
ture and man. He abhorred that state of society which was too
much trammelled by rules, and enslaved by fashion. The forest,
the river, the prairie, the buffalo, and even savage man, had more
charms for him than villages or cities. It was refreshing to his
soul to breathe an air untainted by other breaths. He loved room ;
hated all restraint, grew restless in a country where hunting grounds
were turned to fertile fields ; and felt half his manhood depart from
him in a society where he could not level his rifle to avenge his
own wrongs ; yet Daniel Boone was a good neighbour, and a fast
friend; discreet, charitable, hospitable, and affectionate; but he
enjoyed the musings of the deep solitudes, and felt the conscious-
ness of his own superiority in proportion as he felt the necessity of
relying on his own resources.

A world of anecdotes are afloat, which show his great traits of
character : his daring, his fortitude, his perseverance, and elasticity.
It is a well authenticated fact, that once being pursued by the In-
dians, he came to a precipice, on the borders of a river ; when his
pursuers were close on his back, he leaped from the bank, the astound-
ing height of fifty feet, before he reached the light and wavy top of a
tree, whose lithe branches had been climbing for years to catch a
glimpse of the sun, above the edge of the precipice. This springy
bed received him as he spread himself out ; and he let himself down
from branch to limb, until he fell to the margin of the stream, with
only a few scratches, and some little derangement to his moose-skin
dress. He forded the stream, and then poised his rifle in defiance
at his pursuers. The most fierce and adventmrous of the children
of the forest gazed with wonder at this feat, and set down his suc-
cess to preternatural power ; but Boone knew his fate if taken ; the
stake, the fagot, the slow-consuming fire, with every insult savage
ingenuity could devise, or ferocity suggest ; and he preferred the
chance of the leap to the certainty which would follow capture.
The leap could be only death, the capture torment and death to-
gether.

The sagacity of Boone in making his pathway in the forest whs
superiour to his great teachers, the Indians. In this science they
frequently yielded to his superiority. The stars that lighted his

LECTURES ON

path, and directed Ms course, seemed to shed their influence on his
mind ; for by them he counted the long hours of the night with
more than Chaldean accuracy. This wandering life kept his mind
bright and active. His recollection was so perfect, that for twenty
3rears or more, after he had blazed a tree, or marked it with his
mmie, he would remember where it stood, even if fallen, by its stump,
and the make of the land around it ; and sometimes when his opinion
was disregarded, as being thought impossible that he should remem-
ber, on removing or turning the log from it, proofs of his correctness
became visible.

In process of time, the very wilderness he first subdued became
too populous to suit his taste and habits ; and he felt himself an-
noyed at the whole mass of laws the progress of civilization re-
quired, and which were enacted. The disputes respecting bounda-
ries; the quarrels about meum and tuum, gave him distress; for he
remembered the time when all was mine, and when miles and acres
were not thought of, and he could not bear to mention feet and
inches. Getting involved in some of these disputes about boundaries,
and finding no longer that reverence which was once paid him as
a patriarch and a leader, he, in the language of a border people^
pulled up stakes^ and took up his line of march for Missouri. In
Kentucky, he had seen the wilderness blossom like the rose, where
he once strayed as the only white man ; but he did not take delight
in walking in the garden, and in cultivating flowers. He prefer-
red Diana of the chase, to Flora, Ceres, or the whole train of the
divinities of civilization and taste.

Such a Ufe, it cannot be contended, gave either refinement or
grace, or letters or science, to the man ; but it gave a pecuUarity
and an elevation to his character, that all the courts of Europe could
not teach. He was not destitute of letters or numbers; indeed, he
had enough of each for all his purposes ; to which he added a science
which is only learnt in such a school as his, a familiarity with all
the indices of nature, whether they related to the formation of the
surface of the ground, the flow of the river, the growth of the forest,
or the haunts and tracks of animals. He followed with more than
ordinary human sagacity the fox to his den, the bear to his cavern,
and the beaver to his dam. To prove to himself that he had not
lost his skill with his rifle, he shot, with a single ball, the humming
bird, as he sucked the opening flowers, and spread his tiny wings,
and presented his exquisite colours to the sun ; and brought down
the soaring eagle as he poised in majesty over his head, disdaining
the power of the nether world. In the ungovemed spirit of the
immeasurable wilderness, he reasoned, he felt, and acted, as "the
monarch of an he surveyed." To such a man, the soft allurements of

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 863

polished society would be less attractive than the beauty of the in-
sect's wing, or the " slight hair hcll^^^ which he had trodden under
foot, or those immense regions of flowers, that had for successive
ages wasted their sweetness on the desert air. Civilized man
has no standard by which he can measure the operations of such a
mind ; he must go back to primitive ages to find a parallel ; and then
strip the travels of Theseus, and the labours of Hercules^ of all the
monstrous fictions — and what would the remainder be in comparison
with the adventures and hardships of Boone. The whole country
which these demi-gods of antiquity traversed, did not extend so far
as one of Boone's hunting excursions. Bordering upon eighty years
of age, Boone died in the interiour of Missouri, having known but
little of the decay of faculties, corporal or mental. In the language
of political economy, he knew nothing of t?ie p&wers of accumu-
lating. He thought the whole extent of the continent to the Paci-
fick his territory, and intended to push on to its confines, as neigh-
bours, within fifteen or twenty miles, began to trouble him ; or until
he should find a grave in which his bones might moulder with those
of the bufialo he had chased to the farthest west ; but his fame will
not go down as the fame of the mighty lords of the forest, with
whom he so often struggled ; for he has left children among the
reputable of the land, and connexions or friends in many places^
who will cherish his memory, treasure up the incidents of his life,
now living only in tradition, and give them to the historian, the
novelist, the painter, and the sculptor, to transmit them to posterity
in the forms of truth and fancy, and perpetuate his name as the
great pioneer of the west.

Soon after the close of the revolutionary conflict, the militia of
the several states were organized by their respective government^
with more or less attention to discipline, to be prepared for future
attacks from without, or commotions within. The political atmos-
phere was not, as yet, serene or settled, and each state was watch-
ful of her o^vn security and quiet After the adoption of the fede-
ral constitution, there was a national organization of the militia, on
paper; but, in truth, it was nothing more. It answered merely as
some guide in drafting men, if they should have been wanted for
service, but the nation did nothing for their instruction or discipline.
The sagacious mind of Washington perceived that our martial
spirit would soon wane in days of peace, and the knowledge of
tacticks in the country be lost; he, therefore, recommended the
founding of a military school, for the instruction of the youths of
our country in the science and the art of war, on an extended plan,
after the military academies of the old world ; but so much was to be
done, to carry into efifect our newly adopted govemment, and an

964 LECTURES ON

Indian war still hanging on our borders, that it was not estab-
lished in his day. Mr. Adams, his suc^cessor, still urged the neces-
sity of such a school ; but the agitation in this country, from the
French revolution, delayed the execution of the plan again. It was
reserved for Mr. Jefferson, the third president of the United States,
to see a military academy commenced. It was, in him, more a
passion for science, than a love of the art of war. The beginnings
wwie small, and the school, for several years, although it is said it
was well managed, did not attract much publick notice ', business of
all sorts was brisk in this country, and most of the enterprising young
men were engaged in mercantile or professional pursuits.

The plan fixed upon for the site for this institution, was, in all re-
ipects, the most suitable that could be foimd in the country. West
Point was an important station during the revolutionary war. This
point is on the right bank of the Hudson, about sixty miles from the
city of New- York As you pass up the river, its appearance has
nothing more striking in it, than many other views on this majes-
tick and picturesque river ; but, on ascending the bank, the panora-
ma is noble ; a plain, of about seventy acres, is opened before you ;
the river flows on the east and north of you, and is wide and deep ;
a ridge of moimtains stretches from the south to the northwest, of
various heights, from Hve hundred to fifteen hundred feet. The
up-river view is very extensive ; steam boats are clearly seen ten and
twelve miles off. The city of Newburgh, situated at the distance of
nine miles from West Point, is in full view. The impression on the
mind, as you look around you, on this point, is that of a vast thea-
tre, peculiarly fitted for defence, safety, and that deep solitude, so
necessary to bring down the attention of youth to the severity of
profound studies. There is something classical, as well as romantick,
in the situation. The vestiges of other days are still visible there ;
among which, are the ruins of an old fort, on the banks of the
river, and those of fort Putnam, about half a mile distant from the
river, on a high hill, commanding, in military language, the whole
plain below. From this rocky eminence, issues a fine stream o*
pure, cold water, which, being directed to a reservoir, is conducted
by pipes to the valley, in great abundance, for the use of all the
inhabitants. West Point is not only beautiful, and convenient for
the purpose to which it is devoted, but is one of the most healthy
places in our country. The buildings for the use of the cadets
are large and convenient, but, as yet, are not sufllciently numerous
for two hundred and eighty cadets, and their instructors ; but the
good feelings of the people are with this institution, and the govern-
ment will not fail to patronize it.

The cadets are now under the best of all possible regulations.

AMERICAN LITfiRATURfi. 205

The constant occupation of their time has a most salutary effect on
their habits, and intellectual as well as corporal discipline. Their
temperance generally lasts through life j for they acquire, with the
practice of abstemiousness, the scorn of indulgence. The Spartan
severity in discipline is mental as well as corporal. The course of
studies is of a high order, and well calculated to give firmness and
tone to the mind, and is so perfectly absorbing, as to prevent those
dreamy wanderings, so enchanting to the young in the bowers of
taste and the haUs of learning. The votaries of science and the art
of war, have no time to court the muses or invoke their inspiration.
The knowledge acquired at this institution is as useful in peace as
in war. As civil engineers, the graduates of West Point are of in-
calculable advantage to our country ; an immense territory is yet
to be surveyed, and its capacities ascertained. The uses of this in-
stitution are not confined to its members; the 'fine examples it has
set in mental and corporal education, have been extended to other
institutions of instruction. It has solved the problem in the minds
of fathers— how much labour will the youthful mind bear? and has
taught tender mothers, that their darling sons may endure hard
marches, and sleep " on the tented field," without injury to their
growth or beauty ; for healthier young men I never saw than the
cadets of West Point; if they lose by their discipline something of
the bloom and ruddiness of youth, it is more than made up in the
firm step and strengthened muscle seen in the elastick movements
of the corps in their military evolutions.*

The cadets are arranged on the list of honour, according to their
merits. This is an admirable device ; it produces emulation, breaks
down the aristocracy which finds its way every where, even in our
republican country, and builds up an order of intellectual merit.
Genius and application make out Uieir own patents of nobility.

The physical force of our country is incalculably great It is
science alone we want, to be irresistible to all invaders; and through
the medium of this school we are to obtain it. To be convinced
that it is a school of morals and manners, as well as of science, one
need only reside a few days at West Point, and become acquainted
with the oflicers of the institution. A warm and deep interest in the
academy, and a high respect and friendship for the superintendent
of it, united to many pleasant recollections of attentions from his
officers, induced me to write out a pretty full account of it; but in
looking over the hasty sketches I have made of other and older insti-
tutions, I was constrained to curtail my remarks, and to content
myself with the reflection, that it will not want for faithful and
able historians.

* See Note C, Appendix.
Z 34

906 LECTUBES ON

LECTURE XV.

' YcBterdaj, while I was at the metropolis, the news of a naval victory was
received. To have witnessed the effect that it had on all classes in society,
would have annihilated aU your old prejudices agsdnst a navy. The streets
were thronged with people, walking briskly, or stopping to reciprocate con-
gratulations ; men shook hands, who never had spoken to each other before ;
joy sparkled in every eye ; every bosom palpitated with delight ; pride swell-
ed in every vein. Every one seemed to look on his neighbour, as a braver
and a better man than he had ever before thought him ; every sailor, as ho
passed the streets, was greeted with repeated cheers. I started for home ; and,
as I rode throu^ the country, every oak 1 saw, I said to myself, that will do
lor ship-timber; every pine seedling, growing up for ornament, I was anxious
to see ripened into " the mast of some great ammiral." The naval actions of
aU ages and nations crowded on my mind — Phoenician, Greek, Dutch,
French, English— even the unequalled fights of our Saxon, and Danish an-
cestors, with their " Steeds of the Oceariy" came rushing to my mind; memory
seemed to give up her dead for the glory of the occasion. As I passed through
Marblchead, the welkin was ringing with shouts of victory ; mothers joined in
the general joy, whose sons were in the fight — not knowing whether they
were living or dead. The Ocean-Spartan matron had no tear to shed ; there
was no cowardice or disgrace in the battle ; if the boy was dead, he died in
the discharge of his duty. As I reached my native village, parson Make-
peace was in the pulpit, ascribing glory to God for the victory. The chair^
man of the selectmen made a speech ; I followed him ; heaven only knows
what I said — ^but the speech was i4)plauded, until the old meeting house
shook to its centre. Never tell me again, that the peaceful pursuits of life
will make a hero ; they are created by such moments of ecstasy as these.
There is not a creature, who bears the image of man, in the whole of the
United States, however tame his blood, that would not fight like a lion, if
called into action at this moment. I believe, in my soul, that this naval vic-
tory has exalted the character of every man, woman, and child, in the whole
country ; aad, if I may be allowed the expression — and what shall I not be
allowed in ttis moment of holy enthusiasm? — it will give an impulse to
unborn ages.

Jonathan*s letter to his cousin Buckskin,

Our country not only puts in her daim for her military prowess,
but also for her naval feats of skill and bravery, from the early-
days of our existence. The colonial settlements were stretched
along the seaboard, through many degrees of latitlide, and fine rivers
were found navi^rable &r into the interior. The ocean was, at first,

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 267

looked to for a part of their sustenance, and soon regarded as one
of the means of prosperity God and nature had put into their
hands, for the purpose of increasing their wealth, strength, and hap-
piness. They coasted from one settlement to another, for trade and
friendly intercourse. As early as 1636, before the stump from
which the first tree was cut, had withered, our ancestors began the
business of ship-building. In August, of that year, a ship was built
at Marblehead, and called the Desire, This vessel was employed,
probably, as a regular trader between this country and England ; for,
in 1640, March 1st, the Desire, (says Winthrop, in his journal,) a
ship built at Marblehead, went from hence, (Boston,) and arrived
at Graves-end, in the Thames, in twenty-three days — a proof that
this vessel was a good sailer, however fortunately the winds might
have blown. Soon after this period, from the abundance of timber,
vessels were built in this country, by agents, for the commercial pur-
poses of Great Britain. Models and master-builders were sent out
very early ; and, at no time, have the colonists been backward in
learning all the wisdom of the mother country, in whatever shape
it was to be found.

In 1600, when the first expedition was fitted out against Canada,
the New-England states furnished a large proportion of the trans-
ports ; and, long before this period, every colony had one, or more^
ships of war, of considerable force. In the attack on Canada, after
this, in 1710 and 1717, Massachusetts furnished the transports, for
troops and provisions.

In the war of 1745, it is said, by several writers, and lately men-
tioned in that«excellent collection of facts, Walsh's Appeal, tiiat the
colonies had four hundred privateers on the ocean. In this calcu-
lation, the writer must have included all the small boats, which went
out to harrass the French commerce. In this war there were se-
veral hard fights, and many prizes taken. Capt. Rouse, of the Shir-
ley galley, of twenty guns, in company with Capt. Cleves, brought
in eight ships, prizes taken from the French, with their cargoes^
" ninety thousand mud-fish," meaning what we now call bank-fish.
For this exploit. Rouse was made Post^aptain in the British navy.
In October, the same year, the Bomb Ketch, commanded by Capt.
Spry, took a French ship of sixteen guns. These were the most
conspicuous cases; but there were many captures, which history
has not recorded, and which I should have been able to have ob-
tained from the records of the Admiralty court, of Boston, the only
one then in New-England, had not the records been carried off by
the judge of Admiraltj^, in 1775, who was a tory ; and most of the
cases were not named in other places. At the tune of takin^r Louis-

968 LECTURES ON

boforg, the naval force of the provincials was highly respedahle. It
would not, perhaps, be tedious to name it.

Ships — Massachusetts Frigate, Capt. Tjmg, - - 20 guns.

Cesar, Capt. Snelling, - - - - - 20

Shirley Galley, Capt. Rouse, - - - - 20

Snow— Prince of Orange, Capt. Smithurst, - - - 16

Brig — Boston Packet, Capt. Fletcher, - - - 16

Sloops , Capt. Donahew, - - - 12

, Capt. Saunders, - - - 8

-, Capt. Bosch, - - - - 8

Rhode Island ship, hired for the purpose, and
commanded by Capt. Griffin, .... 20

From Connecticut, there were two armed vessels,
the Thomson, ----.- 16

and the Colony Sloop, ------ 16

New-Hampshire sent her colony sloop, as did Rhode Island, whidi

were probably of about sixteen guns each.

The fisheries were nurseries of this navy. These fisheries had
been carried on to a great extent, for several years. In 1732, the
town of Marblehead, alone, had one himdred and twenty fishing
■chooners. Many other towns on the seaboard, also, were engaged
in the fisheries, as well as Marblehead, but not to the same extent.
The whaling fishery was then pursued by many on Cape Cod, and
soon afterward at Nantucket, These fisherm^i were the hardiest
of all the sailors in the world. The employment, with them, was a
matter of choice, not of necessity, as land was yet pleiii;y in the mar-
ket These sons of Neptune were accustomed to all climates, from
the equator to the Frozen Ocean, They feared no enemies, nor
storms ) and the man who had harpooned a whale, was not to be
daunted at the appearance of any other foe.

In the war of 1755 to 1768, there was a great call for our sailors,
not only on the ocean, but on the lakes. Privateers were making
depredations on the French commerce in the West Indies, and in
the mouth of the St. Lawrence. The' ship carpenters and seamen,
built and maimed the naval force on the lakes. Besides several
sloops of considerable size, there were built in two seasons on Lake
George, more than a thousand boats, capable of carrying from twenty
to thirty men each, besides others for the artillery, of which in the
attack on Ticonderoga by Abercrombie, there was a very consider-
able force. These boats were built with timber much of it brought
a mile or more, on the shoulders of the labourers who cons^ucted
this armament. The wrecks of some of them may now be seen at
the bottom in the clear waters of that beautiful lake.

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 209

Our people lost iwMie of their enterprise from the peace of 1763 to
the commencement of hostilities in 1775 ; in fact these twelve years
were full of exertion in extending our commerce and settling the
frontiers.

After the war had begun in earnest, Washington gave commission
and authority to take, and bring in, sucii vessels as our cruisers
could capture, belonging to the British government, on the high seas.
By virtue of this authority, several rich prizes were taken, some of
them loaded with munitions of war, which came timely to the
American army. Severals vessels being private property which
had been taken by these cruisers, were promptly released. Con-
gress sanctioned his proceedings as justifiable and proper, and at
once turned their attention to a naval force. In 1776, they appoint-
ed twenty-four captains of the navy, and a few lieutentants, leaving
it to the naval committee to appoint the others ; and, at the same
time, authorised the building of Mxteen ^ips of war, and several
smaller vessels. This, with the force which was then already in
the possession of the several states, a part of which were sold to
Congress soon made a respectable naval force. The work of build-
ing went bravely on, for the merchants were deeply interested in it,
and readily loaned the money to government for their building, or
trusted the national contractor, for materials necessary in getting
this naval force into effective operation. Some of the ships were as
large as thirty-two's, and from these down to four's. After this,
larger vessels were built, but only one seventy-four, however, and
she was never in our service. These were conunanded by brave
men, and there was no act of cowardice known in the American
navy during the revolutionary war. There might have been a few
instances of indecorum and want of discretion, but none of cow-
ardice.

But to be a httle more minute in this history, as it is important
to examine our beginnings as a nation, in November, 1775, the legis-
lature of Massachusetts passed a spirited act, by which they autho-
rised and encouraged the fitting out of private armed vessels, to
defend the sea coast of America, and at the same time created a
Court of Admuralty, to try and condemn all vessels that should be
found infesting the same. The preamble to this act was written
by the late vice president, Mr . Grerry , and it is a bold and an in-
genuous exposition of the sovereign rights of the people in such an
exigency, founded on the royal charter of William and Mary, under
which the afi^rs of the province of Massachusetts had been ad-
ministered for more than eighty years. The body of the act was
penned by Mr^Sullivan; late governor of Massachusetts, an early
and firm patrJoToST the revolution. On the 16th of December of
Z2

270 LECTURES ON

that year, the goremment of Massachusetts, resolved to fit out ten
vessels to go to the West Indies for military stores. On the 29th
of this month John Adams and J. Palmer, were appointed by the
legislature of Massachusetts, a committee to prepare and report a
plan for fitting out armed vessels. On the 8th of January following,
eight thousand pounds were voted for the purpose of making a
respectable marine force for the province. On the 11th of January,
1776^ it was resolved in coimcil, to build two frigates, one of thirty-
six, and the other of thirty-two guns. On the 7th of February, it
was resolved by the whole court to build ten sloops of war to carry
sixteen guns each. Ten thousand pounds were appropriated to this
purpose. Some of these vessels were built, and some others were
hired, so that Massachusetts soon had quite a respectable naval force
on the high seas at their disposal At the close of the year 1775,
Congress commissioned several vessels of war, six sloops, and thir-
teen gallies; but they were restrained to the taking of publick
property. After the declaration of independence, and there was
no prospect of peace for a season, or at least until Great Britain
had tried the strength of the United Colonies, the marine was greatly
increased, and twenty-four vessels were put in commission, and
additions were made from time to time, to this respectable force.
These vessels were commanded by high-spirited and intelligent
taen, and who were wonderfully successful ; for in the course of
three years they had taken more than double the number of theur
own guns from the enemy, besides a great number of merchant-
men of value. More than eight hundred guns had been taken from
the enemy during this time, by the marine which Congress had
fitted out; while that of Massachusetts, and of the other states,
were equally successful. The vessels taken by the publick and
private armed vessels from the battle of Lexington to the 17th of
March, 1776, when the British evacuated Boston, amounted to thirty-
four of considerable size and value, with excellent cargoes. The
tonnage of these captured vessels amounted to three thousand six
hundred and forty-five tons. In 1776, the British vessels captured by
the private armed vessels, alone, amounted to the great number of
three himdred and forty-two, of which forty-four were retaken,
eighteen released, and five burnt In the following year, 1777,
the success of our privateers was still greater. Vessels were cap-
tured to the amount of four hundred and twenty-one. The success
continued without any great diminution until 1780. At this time
the British merchants made so strong an appeal to their government,
that they provided a convoy for every fleet of merchant vessels to
every part of the globe. Out of the fleet sailing from England to
the West Indies, consisting of two hundred in number, in the year

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 271

1777, one hundred and thirty-seven were taken by our privateers j
and from a fleet from Ireland to the West Indies of sixty sail, thirty-
five were taken. Taking the years 1776, 6, 7, 8, and 9, say for the
first year, thirty-four ; second, three handred and forty-two ; third,
four hundred and twenty-one; and for the fourth, which has not
been accurately given, I believe in any work, say, and this within
bounds, two hundred ; and for the fifth, the same, two hundred ;
and allowing but one hundred for the balance of the time during the
war, will make twelve hundred and ninety-seven, without including
those taken by publick vessels from 1776, to the close of the war ;
and this latter number, if it could be precisely given, would add
greatly to the list of captures. The marine, undoubtedly, fell off
towards the close of the war, from several causes ; one, the diflicul-
ties in the finance of the country, and from the great exertions of
the Admiralty of England in capturing ou . privateers. They had
become alarmed from the complaints of their merchants, and the
rise of insurance against capture, which reached an extent unknown
before or since. The French navy after that time joined us in the
war, and was in itself so powerful, that our smaller vessels were
not wanted to co-operate with the land forces as before. Besides
the defence of Charleston and Philadelphia, which were engage-
ments that ought to be ranked among the most memorable events
in our revolutionary contest, there were others all along the seaboard,
of less note, but in themselves spirited affsdrs. Rhode Island,
Philadelphia, and Charleston, have high claims for naval distinction,
and for constant efforts on the high seas during the war.

Our naval affairs were managed by a marine committee in
Congress, who were as active and efiSicient as their limited means
would allow. They had the admiralty code of England and Hol-
land before them, and took such parts of it as would answer the
purpose of their design. The committee of Congress did wonders,
considering their means and the diflSiculties they had to encoimter.
Joh n Ada ms was an eflScient member of this committee ; and, de-
lighted with the course pursued by the merchants of the Nether-
lands, in gaining their independence and raising their national cha-
racter, he studied their state papers, ruminated upon their history,
and found it wise to copy their policy. He was bom and educated
among a mercantile people, and was weU acquainted with their true
interest. He saw an extended seaboard, and knew it were folly to
defend our harbours and seaports without a naval force. To him
and his coadjutors are we indebted for the shape our infant navy took,
and for the Herculean tasks she performed as it were in the cradle.
It is not to be denied, however, that he had the cordial co-operation
of all the efilcient members in Congress in every state, whether

m LECTURES ON

more or less maritime; for these enlightened men saw what a
mighty engine of power this force might be made in a foreign war ;
and they soon saw, too, how much a matter of gadn it was in that
day. John Adams has deservedly been considered the father of the
American navy. His disposition was of that prompt, effective, and
daring character, that made him delight in the naval glories of his
country. He knew that Great Britain was henceforth to be separ
rated from ns, and that it was only by cherishing a desire for naval
distinction, that we were ever to contend upon equal ground with
her. This he declared almost as soon as he saw the conflict ga-
thering, and the storm ready to burst, long before he had assisted
the people, or their representatives, to brace themselves up for the
declaration of independence. A naval force was thought by all to
be necessary at that day. It was long since that period, that the
establishment of this great engine of national defence was considered
of questionable policy. Then the representatives of all the states
concurred most heartily in doing every thing in their power to en-
courage the increase of our naval force. The success of the priva-
teers gave an elasticity and spirit to the people that nothing else
could have given. It gave them wealth also, through the medium
of enterprise and valour. The seaports were full of the bustle of
preparation for cruising and reception of prizes. Articles of mer-
chandize were conunon, and of a quality the frugality and economy
of our people had never permitted them to think of before. These
articles were of use to citizens and soldiers, and the sale and pur-
chase gave a specious form to business. A great part of the capital
on which they were obtained, was the hardihood and daring of the
people. This success inspired the army likewise; for they saw that
sailors of a new creation could meet, and dared fight, the hardy sons
of Neptune bom in old England, and educated in the best of fleets
in the world ; and that these veterans were often found to yield to
American sailors of but a few months discipline on the high seas.

In the bustle that privateering created, the loss of lives and limbs
was forgotten, and the pride of conquest, and the joy of the posses-
sion of property won by daring, concealed the pain of many wounds,
and perhaps healed a great many that a want of success might have
festered and rendered immedicable. In an army, individual bravery
seldom finds an opportunity for display, while in these sea-fights
almost every one had an opportunity of showing his prowess.
These mariners on board a privateer were sharers in the success of
every enterprise, often a better, or stronger motive for brave deeds,
than the sound of a name. It was often that they had an oppor-
tunity of selecting the commander under whom they would serve ;
and men so situated, are generally sagacious in discerning the

AMERICAN LrTERATPXittE. 373

merits of their superioiirs ; particularly when that merit, in a good
measm'e, consisted in overt acts, of which they were as good judges
as men of higher grades of mind, and of higher rank in society.
Several of these commanders of privateers were men of original and
commanding talent, and deserve to be handed down to posterity, as
well as the leaders of small bands in the primitive wars of the classical
ages. Manly, Mugford, Jones, Waters, Yoimg, Tucker, Talbot,
Nicholson, Williams, Biddle, Hopkins, Robinson, and many others,
who were either in the service of one of the state sovereignties at that
time, or in the service of Congress, have been noticed by the writers
of biography in times past ; but there are many more who are equally
worthy of notice, who have been neglected, because they were only
commanders of privateers. It ought however to be considered, that
our vessels of war were small, and did not in general carry more
guns or men than some of our privateers at that time ; and the com-
manders of both classes of vessels, those of the United States, and
those of private citizens, were educated and trained alike, and had
equal sagacity, skill, and success. Scarcely a day passed, from the
summer of 1775 to 1780, that the people were not animated with the
news of some sea-fight, and generally victory was on our side ; for
these privateers were built for quick sailing, and when they thought
the fight would be at odds against them, they out-sailed the enemy,
and escaped to annoy them in some other quarter. These comman-
ders, in general, were men of standing, honour, and principle, and
never suffered themselves to sink into petty tyrants, or lawless buc-
caneers, in their manners or feelings. Instances of the most mag-
nanimous conduct among them might be given. In several cases of
capture, when they understood the owners were fHendly to the cause
of America, the vessels and crews were suffered to depart without
losing a particle of property. In the vessels taken by these priva-
teers, as in the publick armed ships, the oflScers were never deprived
of their baggage, and often were allowed their adventures j if their
owners had allowed them such privileges, and they had any on
board. Some few of these commanders of privateers have lived down
to our time.

John Lee, one of the race of men almost sui generis^ was well
known to the lecturer several years ago, and his reputation stood
among his fellows as the bravest of the brave. He was bom in
Marblehead, a place renowned in the annals of our country, for pro-
ducing a succession of mariners of the boldest, hardiest, and most
muscular, and above all, the most humane that any country or age
could boast. That place had the honour of building the first ship of
any consaderable size, that was constructed in our country, the oiie
mentioned in the first part of this lecture; and of encouraging the

274 LECTURES ON

cod-fishery in the early days of our history, when the business was
hardly known, except in the vicinity of that place. Lee w as bred a
sailor, and from his talents and connexions, soon came to the com-
mand of a vessel. He was engaged, at the commencement of the war,
for his connexions, the Traceys, merchants of great distinction at
that time, as a captain of one oif their private armed vessels. He first
sailed in a vessel carrying six iron guns, with several wooden ones
for a show ; and during this cruise he took a heavy armed merchant-
man, which he saw just before night, but his vessel was so low in the
water that she was not discovered by the merchantman. Lee came
near his enemy when it was dark, with indistinct lights extend-
ing beyond the bowsprit and from the stem of his vessel, which gave
her the appearance of great length. The English captain, thinking
it were idle to contend with such force, as he thought her from this
stratagem, struck his colours, and as his men came on board of Lee's
small vessel by boat loads, they were secured ; but when the English
captain came on board, and saw how he had been deceived, he at-
tempted to kill himself, but was prevented by Lee, who by gentle
treatment soothed his wounded feelings. Lee had in his composi-
tion the pure elements of a sailor ; a fine constitution, great activity,
and a fearlessness that was the admiration of all. He was as gene-
rous as brave, and shared his honours with all who acted with him,
and his wdalth with every one who sought him. Ajt one time, Lee
was a prisoner in a murky dungeon, for what was called insolence
after being captured ; at another time, flushed with victory, over foes
of twice his power, he was active in showing his kindness to the cap-
tured. On one day he was found rolling in riches, and on another
with clothes hardly sufficient to keep ofiTthe blast: thus he passed
through the revolutionary conflict; but there was never a moment
when his genius cowered, or his spirits were broken. If ever he
changed at all, it was that his pride increased as his fortunes were
unpropitious 5 and he grew more forbearing when in the flow of
prosperity. For many years he poised himself on his honesty and
good intentions, and swore away all religious thoughts ; but in the
latter part of his days, he became an enthusiast in religion; and his
zeal in praising God equalled his fury in the fight ; but time, reli-
gion, and reflection, gave a new form to his cast of character ; and
the once boisterous captain, whose oaths were louder than the nor-
thern blast, became so meek, so mild, so patient, so exemplary, that it
was a study and a delight to see and hear him. When the most cruel
fit of the gout was upon him, and nature was sinking with her agonies,
he had the sweet serenity of the saint ; and the eyes which once
flashed the fire of indignant and indomitable pride, were now beam-

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 276

ing with the radiance of heaven insph^ hope : such changes there
are in the lives and in the characters of men.

Wingate Newman, was another of these gallant souls, who inspired
the^worET with confidence. He often said that he could obtain a
crew in one hour for a twenty gim ship, if there were men sufficient
for the purpose in the port. His character was that of amenity and
distance, luiited to great personal strength, and with that princely
generosity which attracts and secures the confidence of inferiour
minds. " He was made for an admiral," was the common saying of
his crew, and they relied on his judgement without thinking that he
could possibly do wrong. In times of peril, genius finds his natural
altitude. A thousand years of peace would never bring a hero from
the crowd. If the British navy had not existed, Nelson might have
been a curate of forty pounds a year.

To show the men we possessed, and the versatility of their talents,
I will name another of the active spirits of that day. Micjj ^l T it-
^ombwas a person of a colossal size, and of wonderful strength. He
served as soldier and sailor with equal facility. At one tune, he was
an officer in Washington's guards, and received a letter of commen-
dation for his daring and officer-like conduct in the discharge of a
dangerous and important duty. At another, he was found a lieuten-
ant on board of an armed ship, performing prodigies of valour. At
the peace of 1783, he took the conunand of a merchant vessel ; but
when our navy was equipped, in 1798, he was again called into the
service, and proved that he had lost nothing of his native fire and
personal strength. Every sailor in the navy had some wonderful
tale of his feats of strengtii. He had considerably passed the prime
of life when I first knew him ; but his constitution was firm, and his
physical energies but slightly impaired ; but with this great strength,
he was one of the most quiet and peaceable of men, and constantly
acted in fear of the efiects of his own corporal powers, when insult^
or assailed ; the only thing he could fear. If so disposed, we might go
on for many a page with such instances of worthy men, who served
their country in the perilous conflict which gave us national exist-
ence: and who shall say that they ought not to be remembered?
But my purpose is now only to give the characteristicks of the age,
and not the biography of those men who made up our strength and
glory at that day. The naval exploits of Amddjpn Lake Cham-
plain, in 1776, ought not to be passed over in silence. The subse-
quent conduct of this ill-starred commander ought not to keep out
of sight what he, and those imder him, did, when he was true to his
country, and fought in her cause. He was not able, it is true, to
meet and conquer his foe on the lake, but he made a noble defence

«76 LECTURES ON

with what force he had. Some of those under hun on tne lakd
were both soldiers and sailors.

Colonel Wi f] rgieqiyQrt h had been educated a scholar, was after-
wards a sea captain, factor, and merchant, and had then taken the
command of a regiment. He had made naval and military tacticks a
study ; and perhaps no man then in the country, was more accom-
plished in aU the offices he had held, than Col. Wigglesworth. In
this victory, if victory it may be call^, of Carlton on the lake, there
was nothing for the enemy to boast of, and nothing for this country
to regret, except the fact that our fleet was not equal to that of the
enemy. The genius of the place only waited for a coming age, to
bind the laurel on the brow of the young rq[>uldick. The lake-god
saw the treason in the man, and reserved his water-greens and his
corals for the brow of one who was as virtuous and patriotick as
brave.

In 1785, all the vessels of this country were sold oS, and we re-
mained without a navy for nearly ten years : still the people were not
kss maritime. They waited for an opportunity to commence anew
on a better plan. Numerous small vessels were not wanted, but a
few efficient ships were indispensable, for national defence and na-
tional dignity.

Commercial enterprise is the mother and the nurse of naval
greatness. No sooner had our country formed a government, and
established a code of marine laws, than our daring navigators ex-
plored every sea. They had before been acquainted with the bay«
and harbours to a high northern latitude, having vi^ted them for
whales and furs ; but they now entered the Baltick, pushed farther
«p the Mediterranean, swept round the Cape of Good Hope, visited
China, the English East Indies, and all the straits and islands of
those seas. This was not all ; they followed the path of Cook and
Vancouver ; visited all parts of the Pacifick, and began a profitable
trade on the North West coast. The whalers followed them ; and
supplied our own, and other countries, with oil of a better quality
than had been before used. In these voyages w&^ bred the best of
seamen ; innured to every climate, and accustomed to all varieties
of savage men, they feared nothing in human shape. The best of
sailors were at hand, as soon as they were wanted to man our ships
of war. They required no drilling for naval service, every man
could throw a harpoon, manage a great gun, or take any post he
was appomted to fill. The protection afforded our seamen, is one
reason that they are so energetick, They are, indeed, a privileged
class ; for, while every able bodied citizen of a certain age, is liable
in time of war to be drafted for military duty, the law does not
allow of a press or a draft {ox sailors, They ship by their own free

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 277

will and accord, under which commander they choose, either in a
merchantman, private armed vessel, or publick ship of war. They
feel as freemen and act as such. There is no doubt but that feature
in our navy can be preserved, as the population of the coimtry will
keep pace with the increase of our navy ; and commerce and the
fisheries will still continue the nurseries for seamen.

In 1794, a proposition was brought forward for creating a navy,
and after a sharp debate, a bill was passed by a majority of two only,
in the house of representatives, for building four forty-four's and two
thirty-six's. The most experienced and skilful ship-builders in the
country were sought for, and employed, and the work began in
earnest. Humphries and Hacket. master builders and modellers, did
themselves great credit by the specimens they produced. In 1796^
and 1799, this country had built up a considerable navy ; six forty-
four's, three thirty-six's, seven thirty-two's, and from fifteen to twen-
ty, or more, smaller vessels of war. This sudden creation of a naval
force showed the maritime world, what the resources and energies
of our nation were, whenever they should be pushed to develop
them. In 1798, the nation were in a state of agitation, and the
secretary of war, who was then charged with superintending the
concerns of the navy, addressed a letter to the Hon. Samuel Sewall,
chairman of the committee of the house of representatives for
the protection of commerce^ and the defence of the country^ con-
taining his views of the necessary preparation for the exigencies of
the times, to protect our territory^ property^ and sovereignty.
All our naval forces were soon put in requisition. An act was pass-
ed in May, 1798, which authorised "the president to direct our
cruisers to seize^ take, amd bring into any port of the United
States, any vessd sailing imder the authority of the French Repub-
lick, hovering on our coast for the purpose of committing depreda-
tions on vessels belonging to our citizens," &c. In conformity to
this act, Captain Dale , in the Gmg^, who had been fitted out with
limited mstructions, rec'eiveJriESe"of a broader nature, but still
limited to come strictly within the act of the 28th of May. During
the summer, others were ordered out, and our commerce in the
West India seas was well protected. Until this period, we had no
regular and systematick arrangement in this department ; but at
this period the cost of building and equipping the navies of other
nations were examined, and rules for our own were readily to be
foimd in them, if in many items, they were considerably different.
The strongest arguments were used to show the propriety of efll-
dent measures, and were generally convincing and satisfoctory.
In this quasi war, as it was called by Mr. Adams at that time,
the American navy took from the French Republick, frovn
2A

878 LECTURES ON

1798 to 1801, between eighty and ninety armed vessels, and re-cap-
tured many American vessels, which the French cruisers had taken
from the citizens of the United States. The most conspicuous of
the engagements in this naval contest, was that of the Q on stellation.
Captain Jiu^ton, and the Insurgent, of forty guns, and four hundred
and" nine men, in which the latter was taken ; and that of the same
American ship and commander, with the Vengeance, a fifty-four gun
ship, which escaped after she had several times struck her flag.
The next in point of size was the Berceau, of twenty-four guns, and
two hundred and twenty men, taken by the Boston. Captain Little .
Capt dq JohnS h^w. in Qie K iterprigie, of twelve guns, captured six
armed French vessels, and re^mptured eleven American vessels, in a
cruise of eight months. In these engagements, in one of which he
contended with superiour force, he took forty-seven guns and three
hundred and seventy-nine men, and in all of them together, the
enemy had thirty-one killed and sixty-six wounded. Although
there were a few mistakes in the naval afllairs of that period, yet,
the whole course together, reflected the highest honour on our
country, and gave evidence not only to France, but to the other
nations, that we were fitted for a naval power, and should soon take
our rank with the nations of Europe, on the high seas. Many
young officers distinguished themselves, and gave early promise of
the high character which they have since sustained. The whole
cost of the creation and support of this navy was short of ten mil-
lions of dollars ; not equal to the revenue of our nation for one year
of this war.

Under the act of the third of March, 1801, all the ships and vessels,
belonging to the navy of the United States, were sold, excepting
thirteen, and these, mostly frigates ; they brought in the market
but a small proportion of their original cost. Tliis sacrifice was a
matter of no importance, in comparison with the glory we had
gained ; aye, somethmg more than fame was gained. The success
of our naval forces taught, not only others, but ourselves, that it did
not require the pressure of a revolutionary struggle, to make us a
maritime nation, in the true naval sense of the word ; a nation who
could make the greatest exertions to protect and extend a lawful com-
merce, upon the broadest basis. Avarice might have wished us to
have risked nothing; and to have purchased our mercantile privi-
leges, by debasement and sycophancy to other nations; and timidi-
ty preached to us a long homily upon the mighty powers of these
nations, and entered into deep calculations upon the folly of risking
any thing, when we were so weak and defenceless ; but, thanks to
heaven, the proud spirit of our fathers prevailed, and the honour of
the nation was not compromised by parsimony or cowardice. It

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 279

seemed a dream to all the world, that a navy could rise upon the
bosom of the ocean, by the power of an infant nation, in so sudden a
manner. The fabled pines of Mount Ida were not formed into ships,
for the fugitive Trojans, more rapidly, than the oaks of our pasture-
grounds and forests were thrown into naval batteries, for the protec-
tion of commerce, and our national dignity. Scarcely had it been
published in the English and continental gazettes, that our navy was
sold off, and that we were destitute of a ship of war, before the seas
were whitened with the canvass of a navy from our ports, that fled
from no equal, and were caught by no superiour force.

Scarcely had our differences with France been adjusted, before
we were called to contend with a new foe ; and then the diminution
of our naval force was sorely felt. During our existence, as colonies,
our trade had been protected in the Mediterranean, by the naval power
of the mother country ; but after the peace of 1783, the protection,
of course, ceased, and we were obliged to purchase an immunity
from capture and slavery, from the sovereignties of Morocco and
Algiers. This tribute was galling to a free people, but nothing else
could be done to save a valuable commerce, and we consoled our-
selves that the most powerful christian nations have done the same,
and some of them were still doing the same ; and in fact, all of them
in some way or other were stiU tributaries. In the year 1800, an
indignity was offered our flag by the dey of Algiers. The ship which
was sent to carry our tribute was forcibly sent on a mission from the
dey to his master the Grand Seignior, and although it was managed
in such a manner as to produce in the mind of the master of the
petty tyrant, a respect for the people of the new world, by the ad-
dress of the American commander, still the insult was deeply felt in
every part of our coimtry. These powers on the coast of Africa
were a terrour to every mariner ; for he, who feared no storms, dread-
ed captivity in these coimtries more than death itself. The Barbary
powers, Algiers, Tunis, Morocco, and Tripoli, had been the scourge
of Christendom for ages* They had been pirates for a thousand
years ; from the time the Greeks had been driven from these shores
to the present day, they had plundered the merchants traflicking in
the Mediterranean, and made all persons they could get into their
possession slaves ; and these unfortunate beings they either ransomed
at a great price, or cruelly devoted to labour and insults of the worst
character. Spain, France, England, Portugal, Denmark, and Swe-
den, had suffered immeasurably from the corsairs of these piratical
governments, whenever they refused to pay a tribute for their
safety. These corsairs were adventurous and skilful seamen, and
lived and thrived on the depredations made on all "christian dogs,"
asthey insultingly called their foe. They often swept the Adriatick,

J90 LECTURES ON

depredated on the coast of Spain, and Italy, and France, and infested
all the aeas of that region ; and sometimes ventured on the Atlantick
in search of prey. At different periods of history immense efforts
had been made to subdue them. In the time of Ferdinand of Spain,
he drove them from the seaboard, and for several years kept them
in fear and dread of him ; but in 1615, Barbarossa, a Turk, and one
who had been a corsair, got possession of Algiers, and by every
species of cruelty and intrigue, extended his influence and power
along the coast for some distance. He fell, as most t3n*ants have
done, in violence and blood, and his brother became, for the security
of himself and friends, a tributary to the Grand Seignior. The for-
midable works erected by the Spaniards while they had possession
of the country were destroyed 5 and with thirty thousand christian
slaves, then unransomed, he built the wall and other works which
now defend the city. Spehi and Italy, and all true christians, were
in tortures at the treatment of their countrymen and feUow christians ;
and Charles V. of Spain, in 1641, made a bold effort to extirpate this
nest of pirates at once. With one hundred and twenty ships,
twenty ^dlies, and thirty thousand men and gentlemen, who had
entercKl into it from religious views^ as it was considered a holy war,
he commenced his campaign. In this fickle climate the elements
warred against him, and all this tremendous host were either de-
stroyed by the tempests, or killed by the foe, or returned disheartened,
notwithstanding the bull of the pope, and the blessing of the cardi-
nals and priests upon the holy expedition. France once in later
years, in a fit of resentment, made a spirited attack upon them, but
did not follow it up with any permanent efforts. It seems mysterious,
but 80 it was, that the United States should be the first power in
modem times who could, or who did, keep in check the corsairs of
those seas ; and who dared to blow the castles round the heads of
those who sought protection in them.

In 1800, the bashaw of Tripoli was anxious to have tribute paid
him also, and made his demand ia a bold insulting manner. The
Bey of Tunis also raised his voice for tribute. On the 15th of May,
1801, the bashaw of Tripoli declared war against the United States.
This was precisely the act our naval commanders were desirous of 5
but the horrours of slavery made a great impression upon the minds
of some of oiu: citizens, who clamoured to have every sacrifice made,
that we might be kept in security 5 fortunately this was not the gene-
ral feelmg. Before this declaration of war had been made, the Pre-
sident of the United States had sent Commodore J)ale with a squadron
of observation, consistmg of three frigates and a schooner. His in-
structions were full of caution, yet not wanting in decision. On the
,0th of August, 1801, ^t^S^p^^^^^^ in ^® Enterprise of tv^elvc

AMERICAN UTERATtJRE. 281

guns, took the first Tripolitan ship of war, or the first of any of these
Bartway powers which ever struck to our flag. The prize mounted
fourteen guns ; she had twenty killed and thirty woimded in the ac-
tion, but there was not an American injured.

This fight fully showed our superiority in naval tacticks and gun-
nery over any thing these pirates could produce. Early in 1802,
a relief squadron was sent out to the Mediterranean ; Captain R. V.
Morris was in command of it The squadron was one of more
effiiSIency than that of Commodore Dale's, It was well appointed,
and provision made for ample supplies. In May, 1803, the bashaw
of Tripoli proposed a peace ; his sine qua non was two hundred
thousand dollars and Ihe expenses of the war. The negociation
was instantly given up, and these terms considered inadmissible.
He had become, however, quite tired of being blockaded in his own
port. In June, Captain Morris was suspended, for it became appa-
rent that he did not act with sufficient energy ; nothing brilliant had
been done under his command. The trade it is true had been pro-
tected, and probably he thought this the chief end of his duties.
The secretary of the navy was not satisfied with this, and he ap-
pointed Commodore Preble to take the command of the squadron.
This was a fortunate appointment ; Preble was a man of sterling
talents, and well acquainted with his duty ; of the most cool and
determined bravery, and was panting for some occasion for distinc-
tion. He had with him some noble spirits, Bainbridge, Decatur,
and others, cast in the same mould, and animatied by the saine*isouI
with himself. The squadron had not only to blockade Tripoli, but
to watch the movements of Algiers, Morocco, and Tunis j but on
the dey of Algiers seeming in better nature than usual, and the em-
peror of Morocco coming to terms, Preble made up his mind to
attack Tripoli with what force he had, and a few gun-boats he had
hired at Naples. On the 3d of August, 1804, he made the first at-
tack. These gun-boats gave our men an opportunity of showing
their personal strength, science, and bravery, in attack and defence;
for the combatants came, as in ancient times, hand to hand and
breast to breast. The minute details of this and the other attacks
on this city, would furnish a story of as much prowess and chival-
rous gallantry as any of the wars in the Holy Land. The deeds of
the lover-knights were then sung by the minstrel, and for ages after
were breathed in bower and hall, and are not yet forgotten, but still
enamour the brave and the fair in this cool age of philosophy; — shall
our heroes want an historian? After the second attack, which waa
made on the 5th of the same month, the bashaw lowered his terms
for peace, offering to take five hundred dollars for each prisoner, and
require no stipulation for peace hereafter. This also was not ad-
2A2 36

882 LECTUBES ON

missible. On the 28th, another attack was made ; and the next on
the 3d of September. The fickleness of the seas in winter would
not admit of any further attacks this season. The next summer
they were to be renewed with a vigorous determination to carry
fire and sword into the palace of the bashaw. On the 10th of Sep-
tember, Preble surrendered his conmiand to Com modore BarrQi| .
The secretary said that this was a matter of necessity. The secre-
tary was an honourable man. Enough was done to induce the
bashaw to make peace on the dd of June, 1805, on favourable terms,
or rather on just terms. Thus ended a war which surprised the
nations of Europe. They had often smiled to think the United
States, a new-born nation, should be so presumptuous as to suppose
that she could put down these predatory hordes, which had exacted
tribute from all the commercial world, from time inunemorial ; but
it was done, and the lookers on were astonished at the events as
they transpired. The Pope, who had ever been deeply interested
in all these pagan wars, or rather, all these wars against pagan
powers, declared that this infant nation had done more in a
few years, in checking the insolence of these infidels, than all the
nations of Europe for ages. The thunders of the Vatican had passed
harmlessly over these purates' heads, through more than ten succes-
sors of St. Peter, until the United States had brought these infidels
to terms by the absolute force of naval power. The head of the
church saw that the people of a free nation had felt the degradation of
paying tribute, and were determined to do so no longer than they could
concentrate their energies, and direct them to bear upon the general
foe of Christendom. The whole was indeed a wonder, that a nation
that scarcely had risen into the great family of independent powers,
should be able to grapple with, and in a measure subdue, these bar-
barians, who had been for so long a time the scourge of mankmd.
We had not taken one power alone, but all from the Atlantick to
the Red Sea. The Doge, who had been wedded to the Adriatick,
and promised for the dower of his bride, the dominion of the seas
from the Delta of Egypt to the straits of Gibraltar, had never in the
pride of aristocratick strength, claimed the honour of humbling the
" hisolent Turk" to the extent that the United States had done in a
few years. The arm of hberty, when properly directed, was always
deadly to despotism. These exertions gave our flag a rank among
the nations of Em-ope, in these classical seas, in which so great a
proportion of all the sea-fights in the annals of man had taken place,
from the early ages of fable and romance to modem times. The
corsair, who had been the terror of the world, was now found a
furious, but not unconquerable foe ; and the barbarians, whose tre-
mendous fierceness had been the tale of wonder in every age, seemedi

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 283

in our mode of warfare, less dangerous than the aboriginals we had
been contending with from the cradle of our nation. We have
sworn to pay no tribute in this region, but this were vain ; shall not
the mighty dead demand the tribute of a tear ? And shall this be de-
nied ? Shall not the lover of his country shed one sacred dew drop
of nature to the memory of Somers, Wadsworth, and Israel ?* Shall
we repeat the glories of Salamis and of the Nile, and forget our own
heroes who devoted themselves to destruction for our honour 1 Oh !
no ; such actions are rare on the page of history and shall not be
forgotten ; the dullest of the sons of men shall acknowledge that
there does exist, in the soul of the brave, a romantick love of country
and of fame, when reminded of the deeds and fate of these victims ;
and shall we be wanting in these reminiscences? No; generous
spirits ! you shall be brought forth on all proper occasions, and your
country's historians charged with handing down to the latest pos-
terity your noble sacrifice — ^that of self-immolation on your country's
altar. Your business was to die, and you have finished it up ; be it
ours to take in charge your fame, and transmit it to future times.

Here I shall stop as to the history of our navy, for all the inci-
dents on which future history is to be founded, are fully blazoned
in the newspapers of the day, and so generally spread upon the
pages of our literary and historical journals, that it would be
premature, perhaps, to attempt to condense, connect, and correct
them for history ; the laurels of our na^^y are too green and dewy at
this hour to be fit to gamer up for preservation ; but sufiice it now
to say, that we are contented with the present size of our navy,
and are proud of its fame in every stage of its growth. A navy
should always be in proportion to the number, the wealth, the com-
merce, and the spirit of a people. It should grow no faster than
its duties are required, and never over represent the strength of a
nation. Its growth should be so gradual that no ignorance of nauti-
cal subjects should ever be seen in the crew of a ship, and still new
sailors should be instructed in every cruise. The greatest possible
science and efiiciency in the smallest possible compass, should be
the standing maxim of those who love a navy. It is not the creation
of a navy, that we are now, as a nation, to think of it is only the
management and increase of that navy, that should be brought for-
ward as subjects of consideration ; and for this increase we can have
no particular anxiety. Skilfiil artizans to build a navy have never
been wanting in this country since its earliest days ; they abound
now, and are possessed of all the improvements of the art of ship-
building ; and these are not a few. On our part of this continent we

* See Appendix, Note D.

■^

LECTURES ON

have timber enough for all the navies of the world ; our forests and
pastures, produce it faster than it can be us^; and science has
taught us to make as much again as we used to, of what we have.
In addition to these great stores, the providence of a late secretary
of the navy, with the assistance of Congress, has secured an abun-
dance of the best of live oak, by reserving for the use of the govern-
ment, an inunense forest of this growth in Florida. This cost the
nation but little more than the sagacious efforts of a man of political
forecast; the worth of a statesman is seldom known until he
passes away; and those who do the most good, often share the
&te that the ignorant and time-serving deserve, or a worse one.
We can never want for sailors, as long as our cod and whale
fishery are pursued, and our foreign commerce is protected.

Our mariners have amounted to one hundred and eight thousand,
and over; a fourth part of these can, on an emergency, bespared
for the navy, and these, with a small proportion of fresh recruits^
would instantly make up a most formidable force for naval openr
tions. The iron and hemp, or its substitute cotton, can easily be
foimd here, and will be supplied as fast as wanted. The only ma-
teriel we were ever charged to be wanting in, was scioitiiidL navi-
gators, not hardy seaman, and these we are every day schooling
for our requisitions. The two hundred and fifty lieutenants, and
Ihe four hundred and sixteen midshipmen, will supply the place of
those who in the course of nature pass tfway, and the list of our
veteran naval officers is rapidly diminishing. Tliose who comie iip
will not naturally be greater men than their predecessors ; but it will
not be denied that iheir advantages for obtaining knowledge will
be much greater. Bravery remains as it has been— and how
could it be exceeded ?— nautical science is advancing with us as in
other countries. There is not a discovery in agriculture, the arts, or
in manufacturing, that has not a bearing upon our navy, directly
or indirectly. The cost of building, supporting, and educating a
navy, is now nearly reduced to a standing certainty. The people
can at once make calculations for themselves ; there is no mystery
about the matter ; for they can at a glance estimate the expenses
of this branch of power. One man from every hundred persons,
in our community, and two days labour every year for those persons
hi our country capable of labour, will support a navy far superiour
to whatever the most ambitious statesman will ever ask of the
country. And to whom is this paid ? All, to ourselves : milUotis far
defence^ hut not a cent for tribute^ was the maxim of our infancy
as a nation. This will be perpetual ; but a wiser one will be, never
to ask, or seek for that power, that will make other nations tribu-
tary to us, except, through the medium of a liberal reciprocity in

AMERICAN LITERATURE. 285

oommeree. That nation is hated, however much it may be feared,
who domineers over another from the mere consciousness of power j
and that nation despised, that succumbs, while it can maintaui its
existence and independence by any sacrifices whatever. We must
not be too impatient for greatness ; we are indeed apt to be so, for
we have witnessed what no other nation has before seen, a people
grow as rapidly into wealth and power as an enterprising individual
ever did. Other nations have vmted for centuries, for what we have
experienced in the course of half a human life, a fourfold increase.
The growth of the navy of our mother country, has been slow,
compared with ours,"*^ but in truth no comparison exists. They
made their navy for self-existence, and for an extension of power ;
ours grew out of a spirit of independence, and will we trust be
maintained for the same glorious xyrinciple. But if all the ships
we now own, were sunk in the ocean, and every navy officer with
them, gallant, skilful, and intelligent as they are, the American
navy would not be destroyed. The navy exists in the hearts and
wills of the people ; and in the event of its destruction, it would be
recreated as certain as the existence of the nation ; all prejudices
against a navy have been overcome and destroyed forever ; and
this is sufficient. The permanence of our navy depends on publick
opinion, and this is made up irrevocably. The decree of tiiis re-
publick is gone forth ; and none but the God of battles can reverse
h, and that decree is, the United States must and shall he a
naval power, and her flag shall be respected in every quarter
of the fflobe, 'Riis decree rests on no contingency, no change of
party, no particular administration of government ; it is incorporated
with our haMts, it is a good share of oar feelings, and it is, also, a
part of our fame, A mighty, a growing people, whose impulses
are ^ thought-exectdvng f/res,^^ and whose setUed determination is
fete, have lifted their voice, and it must be obeyed.

POSTSCRIPT.

One word at parting with my readers, by way of explanation and
farewell. It has been said by those who are jealous of our rising
greatness, that we dwell on the future, and endeavour to show what
we shall be in a century or two to come ; forgetting the present and
the past ;— they will not, I trust, charge me with taking this course ;
for mine certainly has been a different one. The past, almost exclu-
sively, has occupied my attention in these pages, offered to my

* See Appendix, Note E.

:*.'.

986 >* POSTSCRIPT-

ootintiTnien. Among the poets, I have menticmed only two living
ones, except by some slight allusion to those who are aromid me,
when it could not fairly be avoided, and these two I have named be-
long to another age. Among the orators, I remember only one of the
living of whom I have given an account, and the same remark would
apply to him ; and if I have slightly trespassed on this rule, in regard
to writers of history and matters of taste, it was only to direct the youth-
ful mind to such works as I thought proper sources of information.
Among the painters, I have noticed but one among the living, and for
doing this I will not ask forgiveness until the reader has considered
that subject ; not now ; but what a galaxy of distinguished painters,
who are in active life, and " buying golden opinions of all sorts of
men," are now before me, my countrjrmen, and some of them my per-
sonal friends, that I might have named, and found it delightful to have
exhibited, to borrow a phrase from the art itself, in the best lights I
was master of. The engravers too, who, with us, have lately sprung
up, but whose works are of a high order of genius, would have
filled many a page, if justice had been done them, but have scarcely
been mentioned in gross; although for them too I was prepared to
say something in particular. On our hving orators, and I have,
perhaps, heard as many of them speak as any one of their admirers,
volumes might be written ; all these things, and many more, which
make up our national mental affluence,! have passed over at present,
in order to say, as much as I had leisure to say, of the past— that
past which should be dear to us all, not merely because it is the
past, but because it was filled up with many great men, and some
good things. I have said that I cherished the hope of seeing my
book, in some not far distant day, in the hands of school children,
in a cheap and proper edition for their use. If my book has errours
— and what book is without them ? — and particularly one that in
this way treats of historical events — What better place can there be
to correct these errours, than under the eye of a shrewd instructor,
who detects them.

It may be said that all school books should be written with the
utmost simplicity, and no words, but such as are strictly household,
should be found ui them. This may hold good for books intended
for very young children ; but most certainly, the upper classes of
our common schools are capable of understanding any historical
subject, in whatever style it may be written. The study of etymo-
logy should keep pace with other studies ; and words, for whose
definitions we resort to the dictionary in the schoolroom, are re-
membered with more certainty and accuracy, (for the truth of this
remark, I appeal to the experience of every scholar,) than those we
occasionally make ourselves acquainted with in a later period of life.

i.-i«. .

POSTSCRIPT. 887

A habit of correct spelling is never learnt, unless it be a matter of
memory from elementary instruction ; and it is in some measure
true as to the signification of words. It is a great errour in edu-
cation to underrate the capacities of youth. It is not many years
ago that algebra was thought to be too severe a study for minds not
arrived at a good degree of maturity ; and now males and femAles
at fourteen, are often well versed in the science.

I cannot quit this subject, without insisting most strenuously on
the propriety of introducing the history of our country, in every
proper shape and form, into our publick schools. It may be some-
times in a condensed form, at others, in an extended one ; and so
often diversified that facts and principles should be lastingly im-
pressed on the minds of the rising generations. It is essentially
wrong to commence the history of our own country after we have
finished that of other countries ; we may then with profit and pride
review our history, but it should be read first of all. Would not a
mother think the instructor beside himself, who would advise her
to teach her child the ancient, or foreign languages, before he began
to lisp his vernacular 1 And is it not equally wrong for him to study
the geography and history of all the rest of the world, before he
begins to think of his own ? An intelligent Englishman once re-
marked to the writer, that he was astonished to find so many per-
sons in the United States, so well acquainted with British history ;
and yet, so entirely unable to give an extended, or a minute account
of their own. I find but few, (said he) that are not quite at home
in our history up to the Saxon heptarchy, but I can get but little out
of them respecting your aflairs, no further back than the revolution ;
and this, (he added) I have considered as pretty good evidence that
in every thing but political feeling, which is most truly sufficiently
opposed to us, you are colonies still ; and is not the inference a fair
one? When your children and full grown scholars know more of
our king and nobihty, and our speeches in parliament, than they do
about your own politicians, savans and hterati ? The answer to this
was, if we know much of you, we know more of distant countries
and ancient history, and would not your reasoning make us colo-
nies of Egypt, Greece, or Rome, as well as of England? If the in-
ference was wrong, the satire was not the less biting, for the facts
on which it was founded were nevertheless fairly stated. This
errour, however, is not one that originated with us, we have it by
direct inheritance ; our fathers brought it with them, and it has con-
tinued with us ever since. Many a learned Bbglishman, both now
and in former times, could give a better description of every inch of
classical ground, than he could of the moimtains of Scotiand and
Wales, and tell you more about the caverns at Ddphos than of the

288 POSTSCRIPT.

mines of Cornwall, or turn more readily to a page of Strabo than of
Guthrie: but it is of little consequence from whence this errour in
education arose, if it is only acknowledged to be one ; for then it
will not take long to correct it It is not to narrow the circle of
information that I strive to induce my countr3anen to make our
own afiairs the centre of that circle ; do this, and then extend them
as far as you please ; to embrace all countries, and ages, and all
forms of human knowledge. A youth bred at home, becomes fa-
miliar with all in his village, and the country around ; his heart
and memory never forget a single circumstance of his boyhood ;
his Miing, skating, and even his truant frolicks, all become en-
deared to him in after Ufe from the charm of retrospection. His
early associations are forever fresh ; the farther he is off, the dearer
his early associations ; his heart, untravelled, fondly turns to the
scenes of his childhood ; and he contemplates them when he wishes
to forget other scenes and many impleasant events ; but had he
been educated abroad from his infancy, passed the bloom of his
youth in Greece and Italy, had then travelled into Asia, and had in
manhood come back to the abodes of his forefathers, would not the
gable ends, the Lutheran windows, and the low rooms of the pater-
nal mansion, seem tasteless and almost vulgar ? What aunt would he
think of? What cousin or her blooming children would he inquire for ?
He would hardly ask how long his grandfather had been dead, or if the
parish church stood in the same place it did when he went away ?
And I ask if the same process, on a larger scale, is not going on in the
mind of the youth, as it regards our country and her history, if he be
permitted to begin his education by looking to remote antiquity for
instruction and pleasure, and if not there, to those countries whose
institutions are of early date, and whose fame is the growth of a
thousand years ? What to the boy are the tame and common place
things of life after he has become familiar with the romance of
early history, if his heart had not been previously secured by
the sweet affections of the domestick circle ? Rivet his soul to them
first, and, true as the needle to the pole, his yearnings will be for
home, even in the palaces of the Caesars ; and while viewing the
dome of St. Peters, on a grand festival, he will think of the village
church, where he commuigled the love of his dear mother with
reverence for his God ; and perhaps there the beatings of his heart,
as a susceptible and an enamoured being, were first made known to
hhnself. Secure the morning vow of the votary for his country,
and every prayer, abd vigil, and oath, and sacrifice, will be hers
during his Ufe.

APPENDIX.

Note A.

In 1731, the British merchants sent to the goyemors of aU the
provinces for a statement of their commerce, manufactures, &c, te.
Several of the governors answered the merchants to the best of
their information upon the subject ; but in the New-England states
the business of manufacturing many useful articles had been so far
extended as to excite the jealousy of the mother country, and a full
development of their progress, most evidently, was not made.
This famous report of the British merchants was signed by Paul
Dockminique, and dated February 15th, 1731 — ^2, and contains no
small quantity of information. His report states that Virginia and
Maryland together exported annually to Britain, sixty thousand
hogsheads of tobacco, weighing six hundred pounds each ; besides
furs, skins, and some few other articles. Pennsylvania had a most
flourishing commerce in provisions, and New-York h^d nearly
the whole command of the fur trade. New-Jersey had consider-
able commerce at this time, and great expectations were raised on
the copper mines. New-England had then a great trade, for then
she was the carrier of the other provinces as well as of her own
goods. Ship-building was brisk, and the French and Spaniards
were ready purchasers. She had then more than forty thousand
tons of shipping actually employed. The lumber trade was exten-
sive—the masts, spars, &c. of the British navy were found in this
country, as one of our poets, soon after this time, has said, in spe^K-
ing of England—

" The stately mast that beais their flag on high,
Grew in our soil, and ripened in our sky."

At this period, Massachusetts had six furnaces and nineteen forges
for making hollow ware, and for casting small cannon, bombs, shot,
&c. for the supply of the demands of the militia and naval force
2B 37

290 APPENDIX.

in privateers, &c. Nails were made in considerable quantities,
particularly those of a large kind. The fisheries of New-England
were very great at this tune. In the year 1732, the town of Mar-
blehead alone had one hundred and twenty schooners engaged in
the cod fishery, and made a hundred and twenty thousand quintals.
This was a fortunate year, for there was a profound peace in Eu-
rope that year, or no war that extended to the Atlantick. For seve-
ral years afterwards the business fell off; and, in fact, all commerce
suffered a long time, insomuch that I presume the account given by
Douglass, twenty years afterwards, of the entrances and clearances,
will fall short of the amount at tTie close of the first century — say
1731, for this was about a century from the time they got well fixed
in their residences in Salem, Boston, and a few other places in the
province of Massachusetts Bay. At the close of the first century,
the whale fishing had reached a considerable magnitude, and the fame
of our harpooners was known in England. The adventurous whale-
men went off in small vessels for their game ; and a single whale
they killed often weighed more tons than their schooner measured.

The shipping of New-Hampshire, from December 25, 1747, to
December 25, 1748, including only vessels engaged in foreign voyages,
was as follows : — cleared out, one hundred and twenty-one ; entered,
seventy-three. In addition to these, there were about two hundred
coasting sloops and schooners engaged in the lumber trade to Boa-
ton and elsewhere along the coast.

The entrances and clearances from Newport, from the 25th of
March, 1748, to 25th of March, 1749, were, entered seventy-five ves-
sels of different sizes — cleared out, one hundred and sixty. They
had grown rich by privateering and driving the West India trade.

At the same period, Connecticut had less commerce ; thirty-seven
vessels were entered at the custom-house, and sixty-two cleared.

The commerce of New-York, from the 29th of September, 1749,
to 29th of September, 1750, was entered two hundred and thirty-
three vessels, including coasters — cleared out, two hundred and
eighty, of the same description. That of Massachusetts was much
larger. From the two custom-houses in Massachusetts, from De-
cember 28, 1747, to December 28, 1748, there were five hundred and
forty vessels cleared out, and four hundred and thirty entered. The
commerce of New-Jersey was, at this period, considerable ; from
June 24, 1750, to June 24, 1751, at the custom-house at Perth Amboy,
there were forty-one vessels entered, and thirty-eight cleared out.
At this period Pennsylvania was, although a much younger settle-
ment than those around her, in a most flourishmg condition ; from
March 2, 1748-9, to Christmas of the same year, there were three
hundred and three entries of vessels of considerable size, and two

APPENDIX. 291

hundred and ninety-one clearances, and there were then thirty-nme
vessels of considerable size ui the harbour of Philadelphia, nineteen
of which were ships.

These particulars might be extended, with a little research, but I
have not the leisure to do it.

Note B.

I have often repeated, that as a nation we have done but little for
the illustrious dead of our country. The extent of our territory is one
great cause of our neglect in this subject ; we cannot have a West-
minster Abbey for statesmen, heroes, and poets, or historians ; these
men die too far apart to be gathered in the same cemetery ; but what
the nation has done, however small it may be, should be mentioned.
In the plan of the city of Washmgton, the government appropriated
about ten acres of land to a national burying ground, on the eastern
branch of the Potomack, or rather went mto partnership with the
owners of the soil for this purpose ; for there the private and publick
dead rest in republican simplicity together. It is a good site for
tombs ; on the north-east comer are to be found the graves of the
publick characters who have died at Washington since 1800. There
are about twenty-two or three members of Congress, two vice-presi-
dents, and several officers of the army and navy buried there. The
monuments of the members of Congress, are plinths of about five
feet square on the ground ; on this rests what is properly the monu-
mental stone, about three feet high ; on this is placed a pediment com-
ing bluntly to an apex. A very simple inscription, giving but little
more than the birth, death, and, perhaps, dates of service of the de-
ceased, is all that is found on them, or all that stay the traveller ;
(and every traveller is a visiter of a grave-yard by immemorial usage.)
Some of these sleeping politicians were men of mind, of eloquence,
of patriotism, of learning, and should be remembered; but the space
any single individual ordinarily occupies in society is soon filled
up after he is gone, particularly in a republican government. This
is right.

These tomb-stones of the deceased members of Congress, are
shaped like the cinerary urns of the ancients, which were genially
placed in the niches in the walls of the sepulchral chambers of those
wonderful edifices, which in early ages were erected for the resting
place of the dead.

Two vice-presidents of the United States are tenants of this burial
ground in Washington: George Clinton and Elbridge Grerry: they

W APPENDIX.

died in office in the city. The monument of Gerry was erected by
Congress, and if the critical artist finds some fault with it, as a sub-
ject of classical taste, still he must acknowledge that, as a whole, it
18 equal to any thing of the kind in our country. It is about six
and a half feet square at the base, and about fifteen feet in height ;
the die diminishes as it rises, and is empannelled ; on the die rests
a truncated pyramid, and on this is a multipod, mtended for an an-
cient tripod, and this is surmounted by a sepulchral lamp. The
whole appearance is good, and the finishings are beautifuL The
epitaph is composed of a few dates, and a pithy sentence from some
<^ his works. The monument erected to the memory of Clinton,
18 in a more severe style of the art. The shape and size of the
monument is nearly the same, except that the die does not diminish
•8 it rises, and the pyramid is brought to a regular point ; this is
crowned with an iron hour-glass, which is in bad taste, it was a
wide stretch of the imagination, to take the lamp from the sepulchre
and place it on the apex of the mausoleum, but this was somewhat
disguised in marble ; but when the conceit of time's giving up to
eternity, is shown in naked iron, in the form of a broken hour-glass,
the effect is not good. The epitaph on this monument is something
longer than on Mr. Gerry's ; but it is not remarkable for any thing
but modesty. The ornaments of the work are a basso-relievo head
of Mr. Clinton, and not an indifferent likeness ; the Roman faspes,
the caduceus, and the cross-swords ; emblems of civil, political, and
military functions. Both of these men were patriots of the revo-
lution, and filled a wide space in the eyes of their countrymen.
Near these are other monuments, erected to the memory of the
officers of the navy and army, in good taste. Major General Brown
lies in a small enclosure, with a very small head-stone, with this
inscription, ^^ Major General BrownJ^ Near him, a very neat
monument erected by order of the king of Prussia, to his deceased
minister, Frederick Grehum, who died in this country, in 1823.
Among the most striking of this monumental cluster, is one erected
to the memory of a Choctaw chief^ Puah-mortOrha, It holds a sort
of middle space between the monuments of the vice-presidents and
the members of Congress . The mscription is worthy of note.

'^PUSH-MA-TA-HA,

Choctaw Chi^

lies here.

This monument to his memory is erected

by his brother chiefs,

who w^re associated with him

APPENDIX. 208

ina

Delegation

from their nation,

in the year 1824, to the

general government

of the

United States."

On the reverse is the following!

" Push-ma-ta-ha was a warrior

of great distinction.

He was wise in council,

eloquent in an extraordinary degree ;

and on all occasions,

and under all circumstances^

the white man's friend.

He died in Washington,

cm the 24th of December, 1824^

of the cramp, in the

60th year of his age."

Amongst his last words

were the following :

•< When I am gone, let the big guns

be fired over me."

This son of the forest had caught something of civilization. His
nation were among the first to cultivate the ground on an extensive
scale. They knew something of the value of letters, and began to
see that there were surer methods of gaining immortality than by
trusting to a misshapen mound, or a short-lived tradition. Push-
marta-ha fearlessly departed, and the big guns were fired as a farewell
to the shade of the warrior and the white man^s friend.

While my mind was on this subject of douig honour to the dead,
I came across the following elegant description of a tomb, which I
copy because the work from which it is taken is rare, and will not
probably ever be common. It is from lAeutenant Colonel For-
resVa Picturesque Tour up the Jumna and Ganges^ and through
various parts of India, Not that I ask of my countr3anen to build
such a one even for Washington ; but I quote it to show how much
othefs have done to venerate the dead, and to provide a sepulchre
for themselves.

^ The object which now calls our attention is the last in order, but
2B2

984 APPENDDC.

of the highest beauty and interest of any structure yet raised and
perfected by man in any region of the earth. It is only a tomb,
it is true, and contains the mouldering remains of what was noble,
powerful, and beautiM; all these have passed away; but their
names, their fame, their deeds remain; and these works promise to
hand down to distant ages their well-earned renown.

This tomb, the mausoleum of the emperor. Shah Jehan and his
favourite queen, Moomtaz ul Zemani, (or Wonder of the Age,)
still exists, and in all its pristine beauty and perfection. Time, with
his efforts for a period of two hundred years, has as yet scarcely
cast one sullying stain on its pure and lovely mass.

The first approach to this wonderful work by no means gives an
idea of the splendid scene which is to be encountered ; the road is
impeded and the eye bewildered by the ruins of old brick and
stone buildings, said to have once been a serai, or place for the
accommodation of travellers, or more probably pilgrims who came
to visit this monument

The main gateway is seen after passuig these ruins; it faces
nearly south, and is constructed with the red stone, but ornamented
in pannels of rich Mbsaick in various parts. It is a massive and
lofty pile, and has apartments in its upper part, which can be as-
cended by a staircase, and from whence is a fine view of the tomb.
This building is an octagon, and after passing imder its grand portal,
a scene bursts at once upon the eye, which daa^es the senses, and
wraps every other feeling in that of astonishment The Taje ap-
pears embosomed in a mass of foliage of a deep green at the further
extremity of a large and handsome garden, with its lofty and elegant
minarets, and its dome of extreme beauty and airy lightness ; the
whole of the purest white marble, richly inlaid in patterns of the
semiprecious stones, as cornelian, jasper, on3rx, and a variety of
others of all hues.

A noble causeway of stone, raised considerably above the level of
the garden, leads up to the main building, in the centre of which is a
range of fountains, fifty in number ; and midway a large basin, in
which five oiher jets-d^eau of much greater height are thrown up.

The garden is filled with trees of almost every kind common to
India ; some bearing fruits, others perfuming the air with the odo-
riferous scents of their blossoms.

The Taje stands on two terraces j the lower and largest of an ob-
long shape, is composed wholly of red stone ; this is ascended by a
flight of steps, and on reaching the sununit, a large mosque is per*
oeived at each end of it, which in any other situation than so close
to theur lovely companion, would be considered as noUe and splendid

APPENDIX. 265

edifices. These may be ascended, and from their upper apartments
command good views of the main building.

To the second or upper terrace, which has a height of about fif-
teen feet, you ascend by a flight of white ittarble steps ; of these
the upper slab, or landing place, is one piece of pure white marble^
nine feet square. This upper terrace is floored with a chequered
pavement of white and red. Upon this stands the tomb, surrounded
by a marble balustrade ; at each angle of which rises a graceful
minaret of three stories, in sweet proportions. At each story is a
door, which opens on a balustraded balcony surrounding it. That
summit is finished by a light pavilion, with a small golden orna-
ment on its top.

All that now presents itself to the eye of the spectator is pure,
unsullied, white marble, variously ornamented. The entrance to
the building is on the side opposite to the grand gateway. It is a
lofty portico, with an arch partaking of the form of the gothick
order, but differing in its proportions. Round the upper part of
this are inscriptions in Arabick, done hi black marble on the white
ground.

Previous to viewing the grand chamber, where the cenotaphs of
the emperor and his queen are placed, it is usual to descend by a
trap-door, situated in the entrance, into a gradually sloping passage,
which conducts to the graves of the royal dead. The vault is lined
with marble, and the pavement is of the same material. In the
centre is the grave of the queen, for whom this mausoleum was
solely intended ; and the emperor's design was to have erected a
similar edifice on the opposite bank of the Jumna, which river
washes the foot of the Taje Mahal, and has a breadth of five or six
hundred yards. The magnificent monarch did not mean to rest
here ; he meditated the joining of the two mausoleimis by a marble
bridge, ornamented in the same splendid manner. Civil wars,
caused by the rebellion of his four sons, suspended and finally put
an end to these magnificent projects ; and after a variety of suffer-
ings, this unfortunate prince died in his prison, in the fort of Agra,
where he was held captive for seven years, by his son Aurungzebe,
then reigning emperor of Hindoostan.

Returning to the light of day, we entered the centre chamber.
Description must here fail, nor can imagination figure any thing so
solemnly grand, so stilly beautiful, as the scene thus suddenly pre-
sented to the view. Every tongue is mute, every sense lost in
admiration. There are no gaudy, glaring decorations to arrest the
vulgar eye ; no glittering gold or silver to mark the riches of India's
monarch. There is an awe, a feeling of deep reverence for the sacred
spot on which we tread j an involuntary pause, a breathless sus*

906 APPENDIX.

pension, and a reeoUectkm of, and recurrence to, events long paaaed,
which this scene conjures up in the breast oi all who witness it for
the first time.

Imagine a vaulted dome, of considerable height, of the most ele-
gant and light Gothidt architecture, all composed of the finest and
the whitest marble; its form octagonal In the centre stands a
screen of the same, wrought into the most lovely patterns in fret
woric, showing a freedom of deingn and extreme minuteness of exe-
cution, unequalled in this or perhaps any other country. The form
of this screen corresponds vrith that of the apartment, an octagon
with four larger and four lesser faces. At each angle are two
pilasters, on which the most beautiful running patterns of various
flowers, true to nature, rise from the base of this screen, while a
broad and rich border of ^e same surrounds the upper part There
are two arched doorways in this screen, opposite to each other, and
over the top of which is a rich pattern of a stone perfectly resem-
bling the purest matt gold. An entablature of the richest pattern
surrounds the upper part of the screen ; and in a border of pome-
granate flowers, which runs the whole length of it, every full-blown
flower contains no less than sixty-one pieces of various coloured
stones, according to the different shades required, and joined with
such exactness and extreme nicety, that with a sharp pointed 'pea-
knife no seam can be distinguished. Within this screen are the two
cenotaphs, on which the sculptor and Mosaick artist have lavished
all their skill. These are blocks of marble, and apparently one
stone, ten feet in length by six broad. Below and above this are
larger slabs, forming the pediment and cornice. A rich and large
pattern is on the four faces of the cenotaphs, the two differing frY>m
each other ; and the upper tablet on the queen's tomb has a cluster
of flowers, arranged in the most elegant and free style of design 5
while that of the emperor is surrounded by the kuUwm daun^ the
distinguishing sign for a man, the woman not having this ornament.
This screen had gates of silver in open filigree work, which were
carried off by some of the invaders of India. This tomb is not alto-
gether the work or design of artists of Hindoostan. I have seen a
list of the names of all the master masons, sculptors, and artisans ;
the greater part are from Persia, Cabul, and some even from Con-
stantinople, or Turkey, called by the Indians Bourn,

Some traces of similar irlaying and Mosaick are met with at
Delhi and in the palace at Agra ; but the art is now lost, if it ever
.existed, among the Hindoostanees ; and this tends to confirm the
idea that it was the work of foreign artists.

The main part of this splendid edifice has fortunately been re^
^jpected by all the- invaders of Hindoostsovits great beauty bdbsg

APPENDIX.

INT

probably its protection. It is as pure and perfect as the day it was
finished ; and with common care, in the equal climate in which it
is situated, it may last for centuries.

^' With the description of this wonder of the world, the tour of
the author closes. He is well aware that some errours may pos-
sibly be found in it ; but these are almost inseparable from a work
written, as this was, while moving rapidly through a country in
which the subjects worthy of notice are so numerous and so widely
scattered, that some, too many indeed, must be unavoidably passed
unnoticed and unseen. As to the views, they are faithful copies
from nature, in which no alterations have been made."

Note C.

TABLE of the Number of Cadets who have entered and left the

Military Academy, from its Organization to September 2, 1828.

Number
Admitted.

Number
Commis-
sioned.

Resigned.

Dis-
charged.

Died.

Remain^
ing.

Maine

New-Hampshire

Massachusetts

Connecticut

Rhode-Island

Vermont

New-York

218

107

New-Jersey^

Pennsylvania

110

Delaware

Maryland

Virginia

140

North Carolina

South Carolina

Georgia

Kentucky

Tennessee

Ohio

Indiana

Louisiana

Alabama

Mississippi

Illinou

Missouri

Michigan

Arkansas

England - .

Florida

District of Columbia

Kot designated

1,289

540

477

163

2»

«• APPENDIX.

Note D.

On the entrance to the navy-yBrd there is a monument erected to
the memory of Wadsworth, Israel, Decatur, and others, who fell
before Tripoli, while fighting our naval battles, and earning immor-
tality for our navy. This monument is worthy of description. It
stands within a curb-stone circle, about twenty-five feet in diameter;
the plinth is about fiAccn feet square ; on this is a pile of dark
granite, about four and a half feet high ; on this, as a base;, is a
marble sub-plinth, and on that a die of three and a half feet square,
•nd on this a column of ten feet high, surmounted by the national
eagle. The column is enriched by emblematick designs that are full
of classical history, but rather difficult to be read at a glance. On
the south side is a representation of the fieet before Tripoli. On
the opposite side there are appropriate records of the feats of the
American navy at this period. On the four comers of the granite
mass, stands four antique lamps in full blaze. The lamp is the
most classical of the utensils of modem use ; their antiquity is be-
3rond all record. In the early ages they were classed as follows :
sacred, jmblicky domestick, and sepulchral. The latter now bums
only in marble, while taste and fashion have taken possession of
all kinds of them, and rededicated them to the household gods, and
added to them the hydrostatick and the astral. The lamp has a
glorious origin ; it was forged by Vulcan, supplied with oil by
Minerva, and lighted up by Prometheus, as described in the beauti-
ful fables of Greece. It is in vain to question ancient taste ; the
homage of the present age is constantly paid to the taste and genius
of the ancients; for in spite of all the boast of modem invention,
ibere is not a single trace of all these tributes to the dead that |>e-
longs to modern times.

On the comers of the first marble floor of this monument, stands
emblematical figures ; on the north-east comer is Mercury with his
Tod ; on the south-east is Neptune — commonly taken for the genius
of our country ; but then it must be remembered, that other nations
have claims to the same genius ; — ^he wears a sea-weed crown, and

[points to an emblem of history, who is quietly on the other corner

' with her sketch book. The whole work is light and airy; and

when carefully read is full of poetry; and if not of an epick

^cast, most certainly it has much in it of a beautiful dirge. The

■marble of this monument is fine, and some of the chisejiling is ex-
quisite. It was executed in Italy, and by some of the first masters.

"There is in this, and some other monuments brought from Italy, a
mixture of pure classical taste, and of modern design, that raakej» it

APPENDEL

difficult to read them correctly ; and if we do get at a right con-
struction, they must sometimes be as incongruous as the labours
of the artist, who, in a full length figure of Napoleon, gave him a
cocked hat with Roman sandals. This union presents a thousand
difficult points of taste. Even Chantry did not venture to make
Washington a Roman consul ; but shaped a modern military cloak
into a consular robe. This has been ably defended ; and, as Sir
Roger de Coverly says, much may be said on both sides. Give U8
good specimens of execution, for design is more a mattejr of imagi-
nation ; these are easily corrected.

Note E.
NAVY OF THE UNITED STATES, 1828.

^ipsqftkelAne.

-7.

Sloops of War.—

-12.

GUNS.

Independence
FranKlin

In ordinary.

Hornet

In oonuDunoiL

Erie

Washington

Ontario

Columbus

Peacock

Ohio

Boston

North Carolina

Lexington

Delaware

Commiss'n.

Vinc^nnes

Warren

PHgates^UtClass.

-6.

Natchez

do-

United States

Ordinary.

Fairfield

Constitution

Vandalia

Guerriere

Commiss*n.

St. Louis

Java

Potomack

Ordinary.

Schooners, — ^7.

Brandywine

Commiss'n.

Dolphin

Commu^n.

Grampus

2d OoM.— 4.

Porpoise i

Congress

Ordinary.

Shark

Constellation

Fox

Oxdinarn

Macedonian

Commiss'n.

Alert (store ship)

Fulton (steam)

Ordinary.

Sea GuU (galliot)

Corvettes^ZdClass-

-2.

John Adams

Cyane

Note. We have five ships of the line on the stocks, and tereral imaller onei.
The Hudson frigatOi a 44, has been purchased, and since put in

Rise of the British Navy. Henry! VII. 1485.— BuHt the Great
Harry, cost £14,000: This was, prop^y speaking, the fint. lihip
(tf the royal navy. Burnt Iqt accK|dentj 1554.

APPENDIX.

Henry Vm. 1509.— The Regent, the largest dilp in the navy,
was of 1000 tons. Burnt in fight, August, 1612. This king fixed
the wages of seamen at 5s. per month. Queen Elizabeth raised
them to 10^.

In 1521, the navy consisted of 45 ships. In 1545, it contained
100 sliips. Laws made for planting and preserving timber. Dock
yards founded at Dcptford, Woolwich, and Portsmouth ; also the
Trinity House. At the king's death, in 1547, tonnage of the whole
na^-y, 12,445.

Edward VL
Mary

Year. Vessels. Tonnage. Guns.

Elizabeth, 1558,

1548 53 11,268
1553 24 7,110

r 1565 29 10,506

1588 34 12,590

1599 42

L 1602 42 17,055

The expense of the navy, about £30,000 per annum.
James 1607 36 14,710

Expense £50,000 per annum, exclusive of timber from the
royal forests, £36,000 per annum.

Men.

6,570
6,279

8,346
8,174

Charles I.
Commonwealth
Charles II.

1618

1624

1633

1652
1658

1660

102
157

154

15,100
19,400
23,695 1434

4390

54,463

Expenses per annum, £500,000.

9,470
21,910

James 11.
William and Mary

Anne
George L
George IL

George IIL

1675 151

1678 148

1685 179

1688 173

1697 323

1698 266

1706 277

1711 313

1714 247

1724 233

1742 271

1753 291

1756 320

{1760 412

1783 617

1^1 864

1805 949

70,587

69,004 5350
103,558
101,892 6930

30,260
42,003

167,219
170,862

234,924

321,104
500,781

V .

'*■ ; '

-'' : I I.

K-: ::«;.

i-.'

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Full text of "Lectures on American Literature: With Remarks on Some Passages of American History"

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